Skip to main content

Full text of "The Theatre"

See other formats 


^  *  <*  **  <*  W 


THE   THEATRE. 


3»mtfr|I||    HcWcto 


OF 


THE  DRAMA,  MUSIC,  AND  THE  FINE  ARTS. 


EDITED      BY 

CLEMENT      SCOTT 


^  NEW   SERIES.     J 
VOL.    VII.,    JANUARY    TO    JUNE     iS86. 


CARSON    &    COMERFORD,  CLEMENT'S    HOUSE,   CLEMENT'S   INN  PASSAGE, 

STRAND,    W.C. 

1886. 
[All  Rights  Reserve.!.] 


Miss  LYDIA  THOMPSON. 
Miss  EWERETTA  LAWRENCE  and  Miss 
GRACE  OTWAY  in  "  On  'Change." 


LIST    OF    PHOTOGRAPHS. 

MR.  CLEMENT  SCOTT. 
MR.  MAURICE  BARRYMORE. 


Miss  MARY  RORKE  in  "  The  Harbour 

Lights.'* 
Miss     JESSIE     MILLWARD     in     "  The 

Harbour  Lights." 
Miss    ALICE    ATHERTON    in    "  Oliver 

Grumble." 
Miss  HELEN  FORSYTH  in  "  Sophia." 


MR.  FELIX  MORRIS  in  "  On  'Change." 
MR.  ALFRED  E.  WATSON. 
MR.  WILLIAM  ARCHER. 

MR.   AUGUSTUS    HARRIS  in   "  Human 
Nature." 


JAMES  QUIN. 


ENG  RAVINGS 

JOHN  HENDERSON, 


TN 
aool 


v.7 


GlGJi 


INDEX. 


PAGE 

"ALADDIN,"  at  Drury  Lane       ...       57 
Amateur  Performances  : 

vShaughraun         50,  228 

Irving  A.D.C 51 

Glow-worms       ...         ...         ...       52 

CarletonD.C 54,111,286 

Insurance  ...         ...          ...       56 

Lindo,  Frank     in,  164 

Busy  Bees  165,  342 

Owl  D.S 164,285 

Tottenham  House  B.C.  ...     166 

Coventry,  Edward         ..  ...     229 

Irving  A.D.C ...     230 

Watson,  Alexander       ...         ...     284 

Watts,  Russell,  E 284 

"  Antoinette  Rigaud  "          151 

Archer,  William,  Memoir  of            ...     280 
Authors  or  Critics 276 

BLACK  Forest  Theatre,  A     54 

Bouffe,  His  Early  Days        I 

"  Box  and  Cox"  in  Spanish...         ...  117 

Brereton,  Austin  : 

The  Provincial  Pantomimes      ..  79 
His  "  Shakesperean  Scenes  and 

Characters"     161,  287 


"Sister  Mary  "  ... 
James  Quin 
John    Henderson 
"TheCenci"     ... 
Bressant 


217 
245 
303 
330 
185 


"CENCI,"  The          330,  339 

Clairon,  Hippolyte 292 

Clarke,  H.  Savile  : 

"  Little  Jack  Sheppard  "          ...       44 

At  the  Lyceum 58 

After  the  Ball 125 

" Engaged"       153 

"  The  Schoolmistress  " 2b8 

"  Pickpocket,  The "      ...         ...     324 

"Clito"          <       325,336 

Coleman,     John,    his     Memoirs    of 

Phelps          106,157 

Corelli,  Marie  : 

Desdemona         ...         ...         ...     299 

"  Could  Faust    Marry    Margaret  ?  "       59 
Coxon,  Miss  Ethel,  the  Duties  of  an 
Audience     ...         ...         ...         ...       74 


DISCONTENTS  of  a  Dramatist,  The... 
"  Doo,  Brown  and  Co."       


175 

220 


Dramatic  Students,  The 
Dramatic  Year  of  1885,  The... 
Duties  of  an  Audience,  The... 


PAGE 

1 08 

46 

74 


"ENEMIES" 148 

•'Engaged"  ...         ...  153 

"  FAUST  "  at  the  Lyceum    ...     33,  59,  62 

Fitzgerald,  Percy  : 

"Nadjezda"      ...         ...         ...  104 

His  "  Room  70"           no 

"  Doo,  Brown  and  Co."            ...  220 

Mrs.  Langtry  as  Pauline          ....  221 

"  Hamlet  "  with  Alterations  ...  252 

"Sophia"           275 

Garrick's  First  Appearance     ...  308 

Forsyth,  Miss  Helen...         ...         ...  279 

Memoir  of          ...         341 

GARRICK,  His  First  Appearance     ...  308 

His  "  Hamlet"           252 

"Georgette  "...          17 

Goodman,  Walter  : 

The  Spanish  Stage       8 

"  Box  and  Cox "  in  Spanish     ...  117 

"HAMLET  "in  French          193 

"  Harbour  Lights,  The  "     42 

Hawkins,  F.   W.  : 

Hippolyte  Clairon         ...         ...  292 

Harris,  Augusius,  Memoir  of          ...  341 

Harrison,  Clifford    ...         ...         ...  163 

"  Helena  in  Troas  " 331 

Henderson,  John      303 

Portrait  of         305 

Hervey,  Charles : 

Bouffe's  Early  Days i 

Thespis  at  Roulette     88 

Bressant             185 

Hume  F.  W.  : 

A  Ballad  of  Fortune     290 

"  JIM  the  Penman" 270 

Johnson,  T.  : 

Paris  at  the  Play  ...         17,   127 

KENT,  Philip  : 

Balzac's  "  Maratre"      233 

Kingston,  Wm.  Beatty  : 

Our  Musical  Box,   24,  94,   158,  210, 


259,  316 
Farewell  to  Liszt1' 


257 


IV. 


INDEX. 


PAGE 


Knight,  Joseph  : 
"Hamlet"   at 
Martin... 


the    Porte-Saint 


LANGTRY,  Mrs  ,  as  "  Pauline." 
"  Lily  of  Leoville  "  The 
"  Little  Jack  Sheppard" 

"  Lord  Harry,  The" 

"Lurline"       


193 

221 
3l6 

44 
3i6 


"  MARATRE,  Balzac's"        233 

"  Marion  Delorme" 127 

Marshall,  Frank  : 

Could  Faust  Marry  Margaret  ?...  59 
Melbourne,  Theatricals  in  53,  168,  285 
Mci.^iaux,  Marie  de  : 

"Enemies"        ...  148 

"Jim  the  Penman"       270 

"Clito" 325 

Mephistopheles,  The  Lameness  of  62 

Millward,  Miss  Jessie,  Memoir  of  ...  223 

"  Mission  Delicate,  Une"    129 

Morris,  Mr.  Felix,  Memoir  of         ...  162 

"NADJEZDA" 104 

New  Plays  and  Revivals  in  London, 
the  Provinces,  and  Paris,  115,  171,  231, 

288 

"  OLIVER  Grumble  "  280 

Our  Musical-Box,       24,  94,  158,  210,  316 
Olympic  Theatre,  Notes  on 200 


PARIS  at  the  Play 
"Pickpocket,  The"  ... 
"  Plebeians,  The"     ... 
Poetry  : 

The  Rose  Queen 

At  the  Lyceum  ... 

An  Old  Valentine 

Don't  Tell 

After  the  Ball    . 


17,  127 
...  324 
...  112 


93 
125 


The  Angel's  Visit 
A  Remembrance 

Praeterita!          

Farewell  to  Liszt 

A  Ballad  of  Fortune      .. 

Desdemona 

Faust       

Provincial  Pantomimes,  The 


QuiN,  James 

Portrait  of      

RORKE,  Miss  Mary,  Memoir  of 
Ross,  Chas.  H. : 

"Shouts  Without" 

SALAMAN,  Malcolm  Charles : 
The  Rose  Queen 

"Sapho"       

"  Schoolmistress,  The 

Scott,  Clement  : 

The  Angel's  Visit 
Praeterita  !         

"  Shouts  Without  " 

"  Sister  Mary" 

"Sophia"      

Spanish  Stage,  The 


PAGE 
135 

192 
209 

257 

290 

299 
300 

79 

245 
248 

162 
67 


7 

20 
268 


2O9 

67 

2I7 

27i 


THESPIS  at  Roulette  88 

Thompson,  Miss  Lydia,  Memoir  of,       56 
Turner,  Godfrey  : 

"  Faust  "  at  the  Lyceum      ,,.       33 
The      Lameness    of    Mephis- 
topheles          

WATSON,  Alfred  E.,  Memoir  op,  ...  224 

West,  Miss  Florence  ...         ...  279 

Wilde,  W.  C.  K  : 

"  Helena  in  Troas  " 331 

Wilson,  H.  Schiitz  : 

"  Discontent  of  a  Dramatist"  175 


THE  THEATRE. 


Bouffe's  Early  Days. 

BY  CHARLES  HERVEY. 

It  may,  I  think,  be  taken  for  granted  that  a  man  has  but  a  poor 
chance  of  succeeding  in  a  profession,  unless  he  be  endowed  with 
a  special  vocation  and  aptitude  for  it.  The  square  peg  in  the 
round  hole  can  hardly  be  called  a  satisfactory  adjustment,  and, 
although  it  frequently  happens  that  those  especially  fitted  for  a 
particular  career  are  compelled  by  circumstances  to  embrace 
another,  and  even  in  time  become  tolerably  reconciled  to  the 
substitution,  the  old  bias  nevertheless  remains,  and  they  feel  that 
they  could  have  done  far  better  had  they  been  enabled  to  carry 
out  their  original  intention.  No  permanent  difficulty  of  this  kind 
stood  in  the  way  of  Bouffe ;  if  ever  anyone  were  destined  for  the 
stage  both  by  predilection  and  natural  gifts,  it  was  assuredly  the 
creator  of  "  Michel  Perrin  "  and  the  "  Gamin  de  Paris,"  as  a 
perusal  of  his  interesting  "  Recollections,"  published  a  few  years 
ago,  to  which  I  am  mainly  indebted  for  the  idea  of  the  present 
paper,  will  clearly  show. 

When  barely  thirteen  he  began  life  as  apprentice  to  his  father, 
a  carver  and  gilder  at  that  period  (1813),  at  the  head  of  a  large 
establishment,  and  soon  mastered  the  rudiments  of  his  profession, 
although,  as  he  incidentally  remarks,  his  own  inclinations,  had 
they  been  consulted,  would  have  prompted  him  to  become  a  scene 
painter.  It  is  not  surprising  that  this  project  of  being  in  some 
way  connected  with  a  theatre  should  have  had  a  peculiar  fascina- 
tion for  him,  for  both  his  parents  were  constant  playgoers,  and 
every  sou  he  himself  could  economise  out  of  his  scanty  allowance 
was  exclusively  devoted  to  the  purchase  of  a  gallery  ticket,  or — 
when  his  funds  were  too  low  to  admit  of  such  extravagance — 

NEW    SERIES. — VOL.   VII.  B 


2  THE    THEATRE.  QAN.  i,  1886. 

contremarque,  sold  to  him  at  half  price  by  some  accommodating 
boulevard  loafer.  Before  he  was  ten  years  old,  he  tells  us,  he  had 
already  witnessed  the  performance  of  "  twenty  melodramas,  thirty 
vaudevilles,  a  considerable  number  of  comic  operas,  and  a  few 
tragedies ;"  moreover,  one  of  his  aunts  presided  over  the  stage 
wardrobe  of  the  Ambigu,  thereby  furnishing  him  with  an  excuse 
for  penetrating  behind  the  scenes  of  that  theatre,  taking  especial 
care  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  the  r/gisseur,  of  whose  forbidding 
exterior  he  stood  in  perpetual  awe.  His  chief  delight  was  to  way- 
lay the  performers  as  they  entered  or  left  their  dressing  rooms,  and 
to  indulge  in  an  admiring  stare  at  their  costumes ;  more  than  one 
of  them  greeted  the  youthful  enthusiast  with  a  friendly  nod,  and 
Klein,  then  a  member  of  the  company,  once  gratified  him  beyond 
measure  by  saying,  "  Here  is  our  young  amateur  again.  If  that 
lad  isn't  an  actor  one  of  these  days,  it  will  not  be  his  fault."  Little 
did  the  speaker  imagine  that,  before  many  years  had  elapsed,  he 
and  the  "lad  "  would  be  firm  friends  and  comrades  at  the  Gym- 
nase,  and  that  he  himself  would  deem  it  an  honour  to  play  Menu 
to  the  other's  Grandet  in  "  La  Fille  de  1'Avare." 

There  existed  at  that  epoch  in  Paris  a  considerable  number  of 
private  theatres  of  more  or  less  repute,  four  only  really  meriting 
the  name.  These  were  the  Theatre  Mareux  in  the  Rue  St. 
Antoine,  the  Theatre  Doyen  in  the  Rue  Transnonain,  and  two 
others  respectively  situated  in  the  Rue  Chantereine  and  the  Rue 
de  Paradis  in  the  Marirs.  In  1820,  some  of  his  father's  workmen 
having  agreed  to  essay  their  histrionic  powers  at  the  Theatre 
Doyen,  Bouffe  consented  to  join  them,  and  his  first  regular 
appearance  on  the  boards*  took  place  there  as  Alain  in  "  L'Ecole 
des  Femmes"  and  Sganarelle  in/'  Le  Medecin  malgre  lui."  His 
eldest  sister,  afterwards  the  wife  of  Gauthier,  of  the  Cirque,  was 
also  among  the  performers,  and  attracted  so  much  notice  by  her 
beauty  and  sympathetic  talent  that  the  manager  of  the  Ambigu, 
who  was  present  on  the  occasion,  immediately  offered  her  an 
engagement,  which  she  finally  accepted ;  and  this  piece  of  good 
fortune  decided  her  brother  to  follow  his  natural  instincts,  and 
devote  himself  henceforward  to  a  profession  which  above  all  others 
possessed  for  him  an  irresistible  charm. 

*  He  had  previously  acted  in  a  "partie"  got  up  by  amateurs  of  his  acquaintance 
at  a  little  theatre  in  the  Rue  St.  Antoine  belonging  to  an  upholsterer  named  Cassa 
and  had  been  vociferously  applauded  in  "  Le  Savetieret  le  Financier." 


JAN.  i,  i886.]          BOUFFE  S   EARLY  DAYS.  3 

Two  new  theatres  were  then  on  the  point  of  opening,  the 
Gymnase  and  the  Panorama  Dramatique ;  and  it  would,  he 
thought,  be  indeed  unlucky  if  he  failed  in  obtaining  admission  to 
either.  No  time,  however,  was  to  be  lost ;  so,  summing  up  all 
the  courage  he  could  muster,  which  was  little  enough,  for  no  one 
was  more  constitutionally  timid  throughout  his  entire  career  than 
Bouffe,  and  without  confiding  his  intention  to  anyone  except  to 
his  sister,  on  whose  discretion  he  could  safely  rely,  he  started  on 
his  expedition  to  the  Rue  St.  Pierre  Montmartre,  where  the  auto- 
crat of  the  Gymnase  resided.  On  arriving  at  his  destination,  he 
was  informed  that  "  Monsieur  le  Directeur  "  occupied  an  apart- 
ment on  the  fourth  floor,  and,  scrambling  up  a  dilipidated  stair- 
case, discovered  a  card  nailed  on  a  door  facing  him,  and  inscribed 
"  Delestre  Poirson."  A  gentle  ring  at  the  bell  eliciting  no  reply, 
he  was  about  to  retrace  his  steps,  rather  relieved  than  otherwise, 
when  the  door  suddenly  opened,  and  an  individual  in  spectacles 
appeared  on  the  threshold,  who,  motioning  him  to  enter  a  small 
and  poorly-furnished  room,  asked  him  abruptly  what  his  business 
was. 

Discouraged  by  this  not  over-promising  reception,  he  stam- 
mered out  a  few  disjointed  phrases  of  apology  for  the  intrusion, 
when  he  was  interrupted  by  an  imperative  request  to  come  to  the 
point  at  once,  and  state  as  briefly  as  possible  what  he  wanted. 

More  confused  than  ever,  the  trembling  aspirant  explained 
that  his  motive  in  coming  was  to  solicit  an  engagement  at  the 
Gymnase. 

"To  what  theatre  do  you  belong?"  asked  M.  Poirson. 

"  To  none,"  replied  Bouffe.  "  As  yet,  I  have  only  acted  with 
amateurs." 

'"  Oh  !  indeed,"  was  the  manager's  curt  rejoinder.  "Do  you 
suppose,  young  sir,  that  a  novice  like  yourself  would  be  of  the 
slightest  use  in  a  theatre  where  such  artists  as  Gonthier,  Perlet, 
and  Mdlle.  Dejazet  are  already  engaged.  The  Gymnase  is  not  a 
school  for  beginners,  and  you  might  have  spared  me  the  trouble 
of  listening  to  you.  Good  morning." 

Utterly  disheartened  by  his  failure,  the  mortified  applicant 
sadly  withdrew.  "  There  is  no  help  for  it,"  he  said  to  himself; 
"  I  must  try  M.  Allaux." 

The  temporary  abode  of  the  Director  of  the  Panorama  Drama- 
tique was  in  the  Rue  des  Fosses  du  Temple,  and,  with  even  more 

B  2 


4  THE    THEATRE.  [JAN.  i,  1886. 

misgiving  than  before,  Bouffe  inquired  of  the  slatternly  maid- 
servant who  answered  the  bell  if  he  were  visible.  After  a  brief 
parley  he  was  admitted  into  the  sanctum,  where  he  found  M. 
Allaux,  who  on  the  preceding  day  had  sprained  his  ankle  while 
inspecting  the  interior  of  his  newly-constructed  theatre,  reclining 
on  a  sofa,  the  injured  limb  swathed  in  bandages,  and  a  crutch 
placed  conveniently  within  his  reach. 

"  Who  are  you?"  asked  the  invalid  in  a  querulous  tone;  "  and 
what  is  your  business  here  ?" 

The  necessary  explanation  having  been  given,  "  Humph  !"  said, 
or  rather  growled,  the  manager;  "what  parts  do  you  propose 
taking?" 

"  Anything  in  the  low  comedy  line." 

"  The  low  comedy  line,"  repeated  M.  Allaux."  Very  good  ;  then 
place  yourself  there  under  No.  7,"  pointing  with  his  crutch  as  he 
spoke  to  a  plan  in  the  shape  of  a  coffin  attached  to  the  wall,  and 
divided  into  compartments  slanting  progressively  downwards  and 
numbered  from  i  to  7,  the  highest  being  marked  ''premiers 
roles"  and  the  lowest  "  bas  comiques." 

Bouffe  did  as  he  was  told,  thinking  that  this  original  would  pro- 
bably next  put  him  in  the  scale  to  ascertain  his  weight.  As, 
however,  he  was  then  barely  five  feet  in  height,  and  never  grew  art 
inch  afterwards,  he  failed  to  reach  the  standard  required,  as  the 
manager  had  evidently  expected. 

"  I  was  sure  of  it,"  triumphantly  exclaimed  the  latter;  "  halfaa 
inch  at  least  too  short.  My  good  sir,  you  won't  do  for  us." 

"  But,  monsieur,"  modestly  suggested  his  visitor,  "permit  me 
to  observe  that  for  the  parts  in  question  half  an  inch  more  or  less 
can  hardly  be  considered  an  insuperable  objection." 

"  Once  for  all,"  shouted  M.  Allaux,  "  I  repeat  you  are  too  short > 
and  that  settles  the  matter." 

Uncertain  whether  to  stay  or  go,  poor  Bouffe  stood  for  a  moment 
irresolute ;  then,  judging  the  case  to  be  hopeless,  was  gradually 
edging  towards  the  door  when  it  suddenly  opened,  and  a  stout 
person  of  jovial  aspect  entered  the  room. 

"  Just  the  man  I  want,"  said  the  director.  "  Look  at  that  young 
fellow,  Solome,  and  tell  me  if  he  isn't  too  short  for  cur  theatre/' 

:'  That  depends,"  replied  the  new  comer,  who  was  no  other  thari 
the  stage  manager,  "  on  what  line  he  takes." 

"  Low  comedy." 


JAN.  i,i886.]  BOUFFE  S    EARLY  DAYS.  5 

"  Ah  !  Let  us  see  first  what  he  can  do.  You  can  recite  some- 
thing, I  suppose,"  he  added,  turning  to  Bouffe. 

"  Certainly." 

After  listening  attentively  to  a  scene  from  "  Les  Folies  Amou- 
reuses,"  M.  Solome  gave  a  nod  of  approval.  "  My  dear  Allaux,'1 
he  said,  "you  can't  do  better  than  engage  the  young  man  for 
small  parts  ;  he  is  intelligent,  and  I  am  confident  we  can  make 
something  of  him." 

"  Possibly,"  grumbled  the  manager  ;  "  but  I  maintain  my  opinion 
— he  is  too  short." 

However,  yielding  reluctantly  to  the  persuasion  of  his  factotum, 
he  finally  consented,  and  the  interview  closed  by  the  engagement 
of  Bouffe  at  a  salary  of  three  hundred  francs  a  year,  or,  in  other 
words,  a  pound  a  month ;  precisely,  he  thought,  the  wages  of  a 
bonne,  if  he  were  lucky  enough  to  have  one.  But  he  was  now  an 
"  artist,"  and  that  sufficed  for  his  ambition ;  the  important 
question  how  he  was  to  exist  on  so  miserable  a  stipend  being 
magnanimously  dismissed  from  his  mind  as  a  secondary  con- 
sideration. 

His  di'but  at  the  Panorama  Dramatique  took  place  April  14,  1821, 
in  a  melodrama  called  "  Ismael  et  Maryam,"  the  part  assigned 
him  being  the  reverse  of  comic,  and  consisting  only  of  three  lines. 
Soon  after  M.  Allaux  sold  his  interest  in  the  theatre  to  M.  Langlois, 
who  inaugurated  his  managerial  career  by  raising  Bouffe's  salary 
to  twelve  hundred  francs,  but  was  ultimately  compelled  to  resign 
his  directorship  to  a  M.  Chedel,  who  in  his  turn  failed  to  make  it 
a  paying  concern,  and  was  declared  bankrupt  in  1823.  During 
his  tenure  of  office  "  La  Petite  Lampe  Merveilleuse  "  drew  good 
houses,  mainly  owing  to  the  excellent  acting  of  Bertin  as  Aladdin, 
and  of  our  hero  as  the  Sultan  Ababa-Patapouf.  The  scene  of  this 
piece  being  laid  in  China,  a  bald  head  simulating  that  of  the  natives 
of  the  Celestial  Empire  was  necessarily  indispensable,  and  afforded 
Bouffe  an  opportunity  of  displaying  the  conscientious  exactness 
which  invariably  characterised  him. 

While  dressing  for  his  part,  the  "  capillary  artist "  attached 
to  the  theatre  brought  him  a  skull-cap,  made  of  paste-board, 
as  the  nearest  approach  to  a  Chinese  coiffure  that  his  ingenuity 
couldinvent,  which  the  actor,  after  trying  it  on,  rejected  with 
disdain. 

"  Shave  my  head,"  he  said  coolly,  and,  despite  the  remonstrances 


6  THE    THEATRE.  [JAN.  i,  1886. 

of  thetonsor,  insisted  so  authoritatively  that  ten  minutes  later  the 
surface  of  his  cranium  was  as  smooth  as  a  billiard  ball. 

"That  will  do,"  said  Bouffe,  surveying  himself  with  satisfaction 
in  the  glass  ;  "  I  have  at  all  events  '  le  physique  de  1'emploi.' ' 

He  had,  however,  forgotten  that  off  the  stage  a  bald  head  is 
scarcely  a  desirable  appendage  to  a  youth  of  twenty-two,  and  had 
some  natural  misgivings  how  the  damsel  he  was  then  courting, 
and  whom  he  subsequently  married,  would  relish  his  appearance 
in  a  wig.  Fortunately  the  young  lady,  contrary  to  his  expectations, 
enjoyed  the  joke  amazingly,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  pronounce 
the  alteration  extremely  becoming,  a  fact  which  her  lover,  like 
Hudusi  in  the  "  Pacha  of  many  Tales,"  felt  very  much  inclined  to 
doubt. 

M.  ChedeFs  failure  having  put  an  end  to  Bouffe's  engagement, 
he  agreed  with  Minette  Franconi,  manager  of  the  Cirque 
Olympique,  to  personate  two  different  characters,  a  young  peasant 
and  an  old  invalide,  in  a  grand  military  spectacle  got  up  with  great 
splendour  in  celebration  of  the  victory  of  Trocadero.  The  first  of 
these  necessitated  the  use  of  stilts,  an  accomplishment  in  which, 
after  much  practice  in  the  riding  school,  he  became  a  tolerable 
proficient ;  while  in  the  second  he  had  to  sing  at  least  half-a-dozen 
couplets,  wherein,  as  a  matter  of  course,  "  gloire  "  was  the  inevit- 
able rhyme  to  "  victoire,"  and  "lauriers"  to  "  guerriers."  His 
success  far  exceeded  his  expectations,  and,  when  the  run  of  the 
piece  was  over,  Minette  called  him  into  his  private  room,  and,  with 
the  air  of  a  man  who  was  about  to  do  a  liberal  thing,  handed  him 
two  hundred  francs  as  a  recompense  for  his  services.  Bouffe,  who 
had  counted  on  five  hundred,  was  considerably  taken  aback  by  the 
modicity  of  the  sum,  and  quietly  intimated  as  much  ;  whereupon 
the  manager  graciously  condescended  to  add  a  further  largesse  of 
fifty  francs,  closing  the  interview  by  an  elaborate  eulogium  of  his 
own  unexampled  generosity. 

"This,"  remarks  the  author  of  the  " Recollections,"  "is  one 
proof  out  of  many  that,  although  in  the  course  of  my  long  career  I 
may  have  been,  as  some  have  kindly  said,  the  spoiled  child  of  the 
public,  I  have  certainly  never  been  that  of  Mdme.  Fortune !  " 

It  would  be  taxing  the  patience  of  the  reader  too  far  were  I  to 
prolong  a  paper  purporting  to  treat  only  of  Bouffe's  early  days. 
It  is  enough  to  say  that  in  1824  ne  appeared  at  the  Gaite,  in  1827 
at  the  Nouveautes,  and  in  1830  signed  an  engagement  at  the 


JAN.  i,  iSS6.]  THE  ROSE  QUEEN.  7 

Gymnase  with  the  identical  M.  Delestre  Poirson  who  had  treated 
him  so  cavalierly  a  few  years  before.  His  subsequent  triumphs,* 
and  his  final  retirement  from  the  stage  in  1878,  are  they  not  suffi- 
ciently recorded  in  the  dramatic  history  of  the  time,  and  in  the 
memories  of  all  who  have  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  witnessing  them  ? 


The  Rose-Queen. 

AN  ALLEGORY. 

THE  fairest  rose  of  a  rich  rose-bed 
Its  fragrance  over  the  others  shed  ; 
No  flower  could  rival  its  form  or  scent  ; 
The  proud  white  lily  was  e'en  content 
To  bow  its  beauty  before  this  rose, 
Red  like  the  sun  when  it  seeks  repose; 
And  bees  and  butterflies  wooed  its  heart  ; 
But  still  it  stood,  like  a  queen,  apart. 

A  nightingale  from  a  tree  above 
Would  watch  this  rose  with  its  eyes  of  love, 
And,  poet-like,  through  the  whole  night  long, 
Would  pour  its  heart  in  a  flood  of  song. 
But,  proud,  the  rose  would  make  no  reply 
To  bee,  or  song-bird,  or  butterfly  ; 
While  all  the  flowers  around  it  yearned 
For  even  half  of  the  love  it  spurned. 

A  skylark  came  to  this  garden  fair, 
And  singing  sailed  o'er  the  roses  there. 
The  whole  air  rang  with  its  rapturous  notes, 
Echoed  by  hundreds  of  feathered  throats. 
Heedless  it  swooped  to  the  flowered  ground, 
Then  up  once  more  with  a  winged  bound  ; 
And  as  it  soared  to  the  far-off  blue, 
The  rose-queen's  heart  went  heavenwards  too. 

The  rose  was  plucked  for  a  maid's  love-token  ; 
Now  flung  away,  —  and  the  maid's  heart-broken. 
The  nightingale  that  would  love  the  rose 
Sang  out  its  life  ere  the  summer's  close. 
The  lark,  so  glad  of  its  own  free  life, 
\Vas  shot,  and  fell  to  the  gourmand's  knife. 
So  all  things  pass  ;  yet  the  world  is  fair. 
Is  death  worth  sorrow  ?  Is  life  worth  care  ? 

MALCOLM  CHARLES  SALAMAN. 

*  The  parts  played  by  this  eminent  comedian  at  various  theatres  from  1821  to 
1857  amount  in  number  to  exactly  one  hundred  and  fifty-five,  of  which  only  seven 
had  been  previously  performed  by  other  actors. 


S  THE  THE  A  TRE.  [JAN.  i,  1886. 


An  Englishman  on  the  Spanish  Stage. 

BY  WALTER  GOODMAN. 

THE  typical  Englishman  of  light  comedy  and  farce  is  as  popular 
in  the  Peninsula  as  elsewhere  on  the  Continent,  and  his 
idiosyncracies  are  there  no  less  developed  and  exaggerated.  Per- 
haps John  Bull  never  appeared  on  the  foreign  stage  to  better — and 
worse — advantage  than  in  a  little  farcical  comedy  in  one  act, 
originally  written  by  its  author  for  Sefior  Romea,  a  light  comedian 
of  great  repute  in  Spain,  and  produced  for  the  first  time,  at  the 
Teatro  Principal  of  Valencia,  on  the  2Oth  of  April,  1860.  It  was, 
however,  not  till  the  igth  of  May,  1868,  that  the  writer  of  these 
pages  was  present  at  a  revival  of  the  play,  and  on  that  occasion 
the  leading  role  was  undertaken  by  one  of  Her  Majesty's  British 
subjects. 

The  title  of  the  piece — which  was  termed  a  comedy  and  was  in 
metrical  verse — is  derived  from  a  proverbial  expression  difficult  to 
render  into  corresponding  Anglo-Saxon,  so  we  will  call  it  "  The 
eleventh  hour,"  which  is  its  nearest  equivalent,  and  sufficiently 
expresses  its  motive.  The  "  Personajes,"  or  characters,  were  : — 

CONCHA, 
JULIAN, 
LORENZO, 

and  MR.  HENRY. 

The  last-named  personage  is,  as  the  name  suggests,  an  Englishman, 
supposed  to  have  resided  some  years  in  Madrid,  where  the  scene 
is  laid,  and  for  this  reason  he  possesses  only  a  slight  foreign  accent. 
The  stage  directions  inform  the  actor  of  this  part  that  he  must 
"  allow  for  the  guttural  accent  peculiar  to  the  English  language," 
but  the  author  naturally  addressed  the  remarks  to  his  own  country- 
men, and  probably  did  not  imagine  that  the  character  would  one 
day  be  impersonated  by  a  bond  fide  Briton. 

In  addition  to  the  guttural  accent,  Mr.  Henry  is  "  supposed 
to  possess  "  many  of  the  peculiarities  of  his  compatriots,  and  some 


AN.  i,  1886.]  SPANISH   STAGE.  g 

of  these  are  represented  by  certain  eccentricities  and  foibles  which, 
in  the  opinion  of  all  well-thinking  Spaniards,  are  characteristic  of 
the  English  nation.  According  to  our  foreign  confreres  there  is  a 
general  disposition  on  the  part  of  the  British  subject  travelling  on 
the  Continent  to  disturb  his  neighbours,  and  a  similar  tendency 
to  intrude  in  places  where  he  is  not  wanted,  as  is  practically 
demonstrated  by  his  occupation  of  the  rock  of  Gibraltar,  and  one 
or  two  trifling  possessions  in  the  East  and  West  Indies.  In  elucida- 
tion of  this  popular  theory,  Mr.  Henry  is  made  to  follow  to  her 
domestic  dwelling,  a  respectable  married  lady,  whom  he  has 
casually  met  at  the  opera  one  night,  when  Grisi  and  Mario  were 
performing  there,  and  without  inquiring  who  the  gentleman  may  be 
that  accompanies  the  lady  to  her  habitation,  he  presents  himself 
at  her  door — which,  like  all  well-regulated  doors  of  the  drama,  is 
conveniently  ajar — and,  after  introducing  his  person,  proceeds  to 
introduce  the  subject  which  has  brought  him  there  at  the  unfashion- 
able hour  of  ii  p.m.  This  he  does  in  choice  Castilian  couplets, 
beginning, 

A  los  pies  de  usted,  seriora, 

a  form  of  salutation  which  literally  interpreted  reads,  "at  your  feet, 

madam,"  being  the   elegant   equivalent  of   the  "  Comment  vous 

portez-vous  "  of  Gaul,  and  the  "  Wie  befinden  sie  sich  "  of  Germany. 

"  I  daresay  you  will  be  surprised,"  he  continues,  "  at  this  visit." 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,"  answers  the  lady,  "  I  certainly  am." 

"  Quite  so,"  he  observes.     "  I  have  not  yet  explained." 

At  this  point  the  lady's  husband  interposes  by  politely  suggest- 

ing  that  their  uninvited  guest  should  be  seated.  But  the  Englishman 

prefers    to    speak  his   speech  standing,    and    in  this  position  he 

proceeds  to  descant  upon  the  virtues  of  his  countrymen,  and  to 

call  attention  to  his  face,  his  dress,  and  his  accent,  all  of  which 

show   that  he  himself  belongs  to  the  nation  just  extolled.     He 

follows  this  up  by  expressing  his  adoration  of  the  fair  sex  generally, 

and  refers  more  particularly  to  a  certain  "  Oriental  pearl"   whom 

he  has  admired  from  a  distance  at  the  opera,  as  she  sat  resplendent 

in  a  "  Palco  platea,"  or  private  box,  at  the  Teatro  Real ;  and  after 

mentioning  how  he  has  sworn  not  to  sleep  that  night  till  he  has 

ascertained  whether  the  object  of  his  admiration  will  correspond 

with  his  affections,  he  comes  to   the  point   by  declaring  that  his 

Dulcinea  is  the  lady  before  him,  and  abruptly  asks  her  hand. 

At  this  sudden  disclosure  and   demand,   Concha  very  naturally 


10 


THE   THEATRE.  [JAN.  i,  1886. 


is  struck  dumb  with  astonishment,  while  her  lord — who,  during 
the  Englishman's  recital,  has  delivered  himself  of  certain  asides 
to  no  one  in  particular,  unless  the  audience  or  the  prompter — is 
horrified  and,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  annoyed.  With  the  sang-froid 
peculiar  to  his  countrymen,  Mr.  Henry  regards  their  looks  with 
indifference,  and  when  the  outraged  husband  attempts  to  speak, 
he  requests  him  not  to  meddle  with  matters  that  don't  concern 
him. 

"  Don't  concern  me !"  exclaims  the  exasperated  gentleman ; 
"  why  that  lady  is " 

"  A  funeral,''  observes  the  Englishman  in  Spanish  metaphor, 
"where  there  is  no  grave  for  you;  "  and  having  delivered  himself 
of  this  grim  sentiment  he  takes  his  departure,  after  coolly  in- 
forming Concha  that  he  will  return  in  fifteen  minutes  for  her 
reply.  This  is,  of  course,  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  business- 
like habits  of  a  nation  of  shopkeepers  ;  but,  not  forgetful  of  Cas- 
tilian  customs,  our  representative  figuratively  "  kisses  the  lady's 
hand  "  while  taking  his  leave. 

When  he  is  fairly  gone,  the  high-minded  Madrileiio — who  has 
hitherto  endeavoured  to  control  his  feelings,  partly  from  native 
politeness,  partly  from  natural  pusillanimity,  founded  on  an 
Englishman's  reputed  skill  in  the  art  of  self-defence — now  gives 
full  voice  to  his  pent-up  feelings  for  the  benefit  of  his  better-half. 

"  As  a  specimen  of  the  eccentric  sons  of  the  cotton-spinning 
community,"  says  he,  "this  fellow  beats  any  that  I  have  ever  met. 
Does  this  Nero  of  the  nineteenth  century  imagine  that  connubial 
felicity  is  fabricated  by  machinery,  like  cotton  night-caps  ?  What 
do  you  say,  my  dear  ?" 

CONCHA.  I  am  simply  bewildered. 

JULIAN.  Well,  if  he  dares  to  come  here  again,  I'll  slam  the  door 
in  his  face.  I'll  cure  his  fancies  for  him  ;  I'll  show  him 

CONCHA.  Show  him  what,  my  love  ? 

JULIAN.  Why,  that  if  he  can  order  people  about  in  his  own 
house,  I  can  do  the  same  in  mine.  But  who  would  think  of  obey- 
ing people  who— well,  who  eat  eggs  with  tea,  butter  with 
potatoes,  dress  in  deepest  mourning,  and  whose  very  idiom  is 
idiotic  ? 

Here  the  exasperated  gentleman  gives  an  example  of  the  incon- 
sistency of  the  English  language  by  referring  to  the  word 
"pretty,"  which,  as  accentuated  by  a  Spaniard,  sounds  like  a 


JAN.  i,  1886.]  SPANISH  STA GE.  1 1 

word  in  his  own  tongue,  signifying  hideous,  as  well  as  atrocious. 

Pues  por  llamarte  bonito, 

Te  diccn  "  pruty,"  esto  es  bruto. 

Which,  for  the  comprehension  of  the  reader,  might  be  rendered  i 
"When  they  want  to  call  you  pretty,  they  say  '  beautiful ' ;  that 
is,  brutal !" 

"  In  short,"  adds  the  Spaniard,  "  I'll  have  no  more  dealings 
with  people  who  eat  raw  meat." 

Concha  here  endeavours  to  pacify  her  spouse,  and  account  for 
the  Englishman's  strange  behaviour  by  reminding  Julian  that  Mr- 
Henry  is  not  yet  aware  that  the  object  of  his  attachment  is  a  married 
woman.  This  affords  some  consolation  to  her  husband,  but  still 
he  cannot  get  over  the  snubbing  he  received  and  the  uncere- 
monious conduct  generally  of  their  guest. 

"  Perhaps  the  fellow  took  you  to  be  my  daughter,"  he  remarks.. 
"  Gracious  powers !  Is  it  possible  that  I  have  the  face  of  my 
wife's  father  ?" 

Senor,  si  tendre  yo  cara 
De  padre  de  mi  mujer  ? 

Julian  continues  to  relieve  his  mind  in  this  way  till  he  is  re- 
minded of  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  and  he  is  about  to  lock  the 
door  for  the  night  when  it  is  thrown  wide  open  and  a  familiar 
voice  is  heard  to  say : 

"  At  your  feet,  madam." 

"Here  he  is  again!"  exclaims  the  husband,  with  suppressed 
rage. 

"  Mil  perdones  " — a  thousand  pardons — coolly  remarks  the 
Englishman,  quite  unmindful  of  what  has  been  said  ;  and,  taking 
out  his  watch,  he  adds,  "  I  have  returned  punctually,  you  see." 
(He  sido  exacto  en  volver.) 

JULIAN  (aside).  Would  that  he  had  returned  to  the  Antipodes  I 

MR.  HENRY.  If  those  bright  eyes  will  but  illumine— 

JULIAN.  Look  here,  sir!  Am  I  nobody  that  I'm  not  worth  so- 
much  as  a  salutation  ? 

MR.  H.  (calmly  regarding  him  with  his  eye-glass).  I  really  don't 
know  what  our  friend  here  has  to  do  with  this  business.  (Another 
aside  from  "  our  friend  here"1  depreciatory  of  Great  Britain.) 

CONCHA.  That  gentleman  is  my  husband. 

Mr.  H.  Your  husband  ?   (glances  at  him  with  an  air  of  profound 


I2  THE     THEATRE.  [JAN.  i,  1886. 

contempt.)  Well,  madam,  to  speak  candidly,  you  deserve  something 
better. 

JULIAN  (aside).  Nothing  seems  to  satisfy  him.  (Aloud.)  My 
dear,  tell  him  clearly  and  distinctly  who  I  am. 

Further  explanation  is,  however,  unnecessary,  as  the  midnight 
intruder  informs  the  lady  that  a  husband  is  an  impediment  easily 
overcome  by  an  Englishman.  "  You  seem  to  forget,  madam/ 
says  he,  "  that  Great  Britain  is  able  to  accomplish  almost  any- 
thing. Consider  her  commerce,  her  trade,  her  manufactures. 
Look  at  her  naval  resources,  and  remember  what  she  has  achieved 
in  the  way  of  steam,  electricity,  and  engineering.  Think  of  her 
telegraphs,  her  tunnels,  and  her  Si-ton  guns  !" 

JULIAN  (sententiously).  And,  above  all,  her  rock  of  Gibraltar! 

MR.  H.  For  those,  therefore,  who  have  known  how  to  control 
the  four  elements,  a  husband  is  an  obstacle  easily  got  over. 

CONCHA.  I  don't  quite  understand. 

MR.  H.  I  will  soon  explain,  if  you  will  but  reward  me  with  your 
love. 

CONCHA.  I  don't  follow  you. 

MR.  H.  Nothing  is  easier.  I'll  fight  with  your  husband  ;  kill 
him,  and  marry  his  widow. 

CONCHA.  Horrible  idea  ! 

MR.  H.  You  can  go  into  mourning,  you  know. 

JULIAN.  One  moment,  sir  ;  one  moment !  Either  you  are  an 
Englishman  who  has  taken  leave  of  his  senses,  or  I  am  a  Spaniard 
who  never  had  any.  Let  us  put  an  end  to  this  inquiry,  and  never 
refer  to  the  subject  again.  And  let  us  also  put  an  end  to  this 
interview,  as  in  sunny  Spain  people  are  not  in  the  habit  of  receiving 
visits  at  midnight.  If  in  foggy  Albion  night  is  turned  into  day, 
the  sons  of  our  meridian  retire  before  cock-crow.  So  take  the 
hint,  sir,  and your  leave.  (Offers  his  arm  to  CONCHA.) 

CONCHA.  I'm  all  of  a  tremble  ! 

JULIAN  (aside  to  far).  We'll  tell  Lorenzo  to  turn  him  out,  and  at 
the  same  time  turn  out  the  gas.  (Exeunt  MR.  and  MRS.  J.) 

Lorenzo  is  the  man-servant,  and  while  the  Englishman  is  comfort- 
ably seated  alone,  moralising  in  metre  upon  Spaniards,  their  early 
habits  and  uncivilised  customs,  that  trusty  domestic  enters,  and 
after  a  brief  aside  in  which  he  compares  the  situation  to  a  scene 
in  a  bull  ring  and  the  Englishman  to  a  veritable  toro  about  to  be 
attacked  by  a  matador,  he  presents  Mr.  Henry's  hat  as  a  hint  for 


JAN.  i,  1886.]  SPANISH    STAGE.  13 

the  owner  of  it  to  go.  Finding  the  owner  will  take  neither  the  thin 
nor  the  hat,  he  tries  to  make  his  meaning  more  clear  by  employ- 
ing the  Anglo-Saxon  expression  "  Good  bye,"  which  the  stage 
directions  inform  the  actor  should  be  articulated  as  if  written 
"  Gudbai."  But  Lorenzo's  attempts  at  the  English  language, 
although  they  succeed  in  rousing  the  British  lion,  fail  to  have  the 
desired  effect,  as  he  still  obstinately  refuses  to  stir  till  he  has  con- 
ferred in  private  with  the  object  of  his  affections.  Meanwhile  he 
orders  the  domestic  to  leave  the  apartment,  and  takes  occasion 
also  to  order  a  cup  of  tea. 

This  in  turn  awakens  the  wrath  of  Lorenzo,  who  is  a  sturdy 
Aragonese,  not  to  be  dictated  to  by  a  son  of  perfidious  Albion,  and 
presently  he  asks,  "  Are  you  from  Gibraltar?" 
.  MR.   H.  Yes ;    what   of    it  ? 

LOREN.  I  thought  as  much ! 

MR.  H.  Why? 

LOREN.  From  your  habit  of  getting  into  other  people's  way. 

This  home  thrust  is  more  than  the  Englishman  can  bear,  and 
he  accordingly  rises  angrily  from  his  chair,  declaring  that  if 
Lorenzo  does  not  instantly  take  himself  off,  he  will  be  taken  off 
bodily  from  his  feet  by  suspension  in  the  air. 

Mire  que  mi  irritacion 
Llegando  a  su  colmo  vii 
Y  veo  su  vida  ya 
Pendiente  de  un  algodon. 

The  high  words  bring  Julian  and  Concha  to  the  scene,  and  fear- 
ful of  the  consequences  of  arousing  still  further  the  British  lion, 
Lorenzo  is  prudently  ordered  by  his  master  to  leave  the  room. 
This  he  does  after  another  verbal  blow  at  Britannia  as  is  repre- 
sented by  the  word  "Marroqui !"  an  abusive  epithet  peculiar  to  the 
natives  of  Arragon. 

After  the  servant's  departure  Julian  requests  his  unwelcome 
guest  to  leave  the  house  before  it  is  "  too  late,"  without  reference 
to  the  hour,  while  his  wife  pleadingly  begs  that  he  will  do  so  "  for 
her  sake."  "  Not  till  I  have  had  your  answer,"  says  Mr. 
Henry,  "As  for  your  husband,  madam,  he  is  beside  the  ques- 
tion." The  husband  is  a'so  beside  his  wife,  and  takes  that 
opportunity  to  whisper  a  few  words  in  1  er  ear,  the  result  of  this 
secret  conference  being  that  Concha  tells  Mr.  Henry  plainly  tha 
she  cannot  possibly  correspond. 


1 4  THE  THEATRE.  [JAN.  i,  1886. 

The  reply  developes  a  new  phase  of  English  character.  This 
•seems  to  be  suicide,  which  every  Briton,  who  has  abandoned  hope, 
adopts  as  a  last  resource.  In  conformity  therefore,  with  popular  tra- 
dition, Mr.  Henry  threatens  to  make  away  with  himself  there  and 
then,  and  for  this  purpose  takes  up  a  convenient  carving-knife  and 
places  it  at  his  throat.  His  cold-blooded  behaviour  alarms  Julian, 
who,  after  making  a  rush  for  the  deadly  weapon,  exclaims, 

"My  dear  sir!  for  heaven's  sake  consider;  if  you  are  really  deter- 
mined to  put  an  end  to  your  existence,  I  would  not  on  any  account 
.-stand  in  your  way;  only  while  performing  that  agreeable  act,  I  beg 
.and  entreat  you  will  not  do  it  in  my  domicile,  and  least  of  all  on 
my  drawing-room  carpet !" 

"  There  is  but  one  of  two  alternatives,"  gravely  remarks  the 
Englishman,  turning  to  Concha  ;  "  either  your  love  or  my  larynx" 
<O  su  amor,  6  mi  garganta). 

In  the  opinion,  however,  of  the  Spaniard  one  other  alternative 
remains.  This  is  a  native  policeman,  coloquially  called  (for 
reasons  connected  with  his  costume)  a  "  three-cornered  hat." 
Accordingly,  Julian  goes  for  a  "  sombrero  de  tres  picos,"  and  while 
he  is  absent  Mr.  Henry  improves  the  occasion  by  making  further 
advances  to  his  wife.  With  a  view  to  get  rid  of  him  and  avoid  a 
public  scandal,  the  trembling  Concha  pretends,  for  the  moment, 
to  relent,  and,  enraptured  by  her  words  of  encouragement,  the 
Englishman  seizes  the  lady's  hand  and  practically  imprints  upon 
it  a  chaste  kiss.  "  Oh,  seftora,"  he  exclaims,  "  I  cannot  refrain 
from  expressing  my  happiness  in  this  way.  And  allow  me  to  do  it 
again,  as  the  first  was  a  failure."  He  is  in  the  act  of  repeating 
the  experiment  on  his  knees,  when  the  lady's  husband  returns 
unaccompanied,  as,  even  in  Spain,  a  policeman  is  never  found 
when  wanted. 

JULIAN.  Heavenly  powers,  what  do  I  see  ? 

MR.  H.  (after  another  kiss}.  Ask  no  questions.  And  (rising)  fare- 
well till  to-morrow.  Meanwhile  you  may  as  well  prepare  your  last 
will  and  testament. 

He  retires  after  this,  and  when  he  is  gone,  there  is  a  scene  of 
•cross- purposes  between  Julian,  who  charges  his  wife  with  infidelity, 
and  Concha,  who  at  first  indignantly  protests  her  innocence  and 
afterwards  retaliates  in  turn  by  reminding  her  spouse  of  his  various 
little  acts  of  indiscretion  in  the  past  relating  to  milliners  and  dress- 
makers which  she  has  hitherto  overlooked,  though  not  forgotten. 


JAN.  i,  i886.]  SPANISH    STAGE.  15 

Everything  is,  however,  satisfactorily  explained  in  the  end  ;  the 
couple  agree  to  forget  and  forgive,  and  they  are  on  the  point  of 
locking  the  door  and  retiring  for  the  night,  when 

"  At  your  feet,  Madam," 

is  heard  once  more,  and  the  Englishman  enters.  This  time 
he  has  come  to  remind  the  Spaniard  of  their  duel,  and  to  invite 
him  to  choose  his  weapons.  To  avoid  further  unpleasant- 
ness, Julian  agrees  to  meet  Mr.  Henry  early  next  day,  and  to 
humour  him  in  response  to  his  challenge,  he  mentions  a  "  thirty- 
six  pounder,  a  blunderbus,  and  a  bomb,"  as  suitable  implements 
for  combating  purposes,  and  enumerates  besides,  "  a  rifle,  a 
bayonet,  a  pop-gun,  a  ramrod,  a  battering-ram,  a  club,  and  the 
jaw-bone  of  an  ass.  Your  own,"  says  he.  "  might  do  as  well  as 
any  other."  Foils  are,  however,  ultimately  decided  upon,  and 
with  this  understanding  our  bellicose  Briton  disappears  ;  but  not 
for  long,  as  he  shortly  returns  to  counter-order  the  cup  of  tea 
which  he  had  previously  requested  Lorenzo  to  prepare. 

Concha  and  Julian  now  congratulate  themselves  upon  having 
seen  the  last  of  their  midnight  visitor,  and  they  are  preparing 
once  again  to  retire,  when  "  Madam,  at  your  feet,''  intercepts 
their  progress,  and  Mr.  Henry  resumes  the  thread  of  his  narrative. 

The  Englishman  has  now  some  sad  news  to  convey.  Preoccu- 
pied as  his  thoughts  have  recently  been  by  his  new  conquest,  he 
forgot  for  the  time  being  that  he  was  a  married  man.  Here 
he  explains  how  six  years  ago  he  went  through  a  conventional 
marriage  ceremony  with  a  lady  who  proved  in  every  way  so  uncon- 
genial, that  upon  the  very  day  after  the  wedding  he  sued  for  a 
divorce.  "  Fortunately  for  you,  Madame,"  says  he,  "  I  have 
remembered  the  circumstance  at  the  eleventh  hour.  But,"  adds 
this  specimen  of  absent-mindedness,  "  If  ever  I  become  a  widower, 
(to  Julian)  I  shall  come  and  call  you  out,  and  (to  Concha)  call  you 
to  the  hymeneal  altar." 

JULIAN.  Meanwhile,  we  may  be  permitted,  I  hope,  to  repose  in 
peace.  Before  you  retire  to  your  own  virtuous  couch,  sir,  let  me 
give  you  this  piece  of  wholesome  advice.  Should  you  be  passing 
this  way — say  in  twenty  years  or  so,  pray  don't  call  on  us  at  n  p.m., 
and  if  you  do  endeavour  to  remember  long  before  that  unearthly 
hour,  that  you  are  a  married  man. 

While  these  sentiments  are  being  expressed,  the  object  of  them 
withdraws,  and  presuming  he  has  gone  for  good,  Julian — who  is 


16  THE  THEATRE.  [JAN.  1§  l886b 

overcome  with  sleep — suggests  going  to  bed.  The  words  are,  how- 
ever, scarcely  out  of  the  speaker's  mouth,  when 

"  At  your  feet,  Madam," 

announces  the  Englishman's  return.  Upon  this  occasion  he  has 
come  back  to  deliver  a  message,  "  muy  ajena  a  nuestro  asunto" 
— of  great  importance  to  everyone  present.  In  descending  the  stairs, 
Mr.  Henry  has  accidentally  come  in  contact  with  the  author  of  the 
comedy,  and  that  gentleman  being  too  nervous  or  too  modest  to 
appear  before  the  public,  has  deputed  the  Englishman  to  represent 
him,  and  at  the  same  time  to  ask  the  good  people  in  front  what 
they  think  of  the  piece,  with  the  hope  that  their  verdict  may 
be  "  favourable  (taking  out  his  watch)  at  the  eleventh  hour." 

It  has  been  already  stated  that  the  revival  of  this  little  play 
occurred  in  the  spring  of  1868,  when  one  of  Her  Majesty's  British 
subjects  undertook  the  leading  role,  and  it  was  likewise  intimated 
that  the  writer  of  these  pages  was  present  on  the  occasion.  I  may 
mention  also  that  he  was  present  on  every  subsequent  representa- 
tion of  the  piece  that  season,  as  will  be  sufficiently  clear  by 
reference  to  the  following  "  Reparto  de  Papeles,"  or  cast  of 
characters : — 

CONCHA  Doila  Carolina  Duclos 

JULIAN  Don  L.  Martinez  Casado 

LORENZO      -  Don  Constantino  Feliu 

and 
MR.  HENRY  -         -         Your  Humble  Servant. 


JAN.  i,  i886.]  PARIS    AT     THE    PLAY. 


Paris  At  The   Play. 

By  T.  JOHNSON. 

THE  stage  is  not  supposed  to  be  a  tribune,  and,  in  my  opinion, 
it  is  not  at  the  theatre  we  seek  the  solution  of  any  social 
problem.  Alexandre  Dumas  fits  inaugurated  this  system,  and 
Victorien  Sardou  has  trodden  in  the  footsteps  of  the  celebrated 
Academician  ;  but  it  does  not  follow  that  both  have  succeeded. 
All  dramatists  should  remember  the  old  adage  :  Castigat  ridendo 
Mores  :  but  as  to  putting  before  the  public  the  question  of  the 
honour  of  a  family,  or  even  that  of  an  individual,  with  all  due 
respect  to  Messieurs  Dumas  and  Sardou,  this,  I  consider,  to  be 
beyond  the  play-wright's  province,  and  I  will  proceed  to  say  why 
I  think  it  is  so. 

The  play  by  which  Alexandre  Dumas  leaped  into  fame,  and  to 
which  he  owes,  as  far  as  the  masses  are  concerned,  his  greatest 
reputation — I  speak  of  "  La  Dame  aux  Camelias  " — was  only  the 
exposition  of  a  subject ;  the  author  therein  did  not  attempt  to 
define  why  or  how  Armand  Duval  loved  Marguerite  Gautier.  He 
depicted  love  in  a  somewhat  brutal  form,  it  is  true,  but  it  was  love, 
and  even  the  sternest  moralist  felt  obliged  to  accept  it ;  first  of  all 
because  there  was  the  true  ring  of  passion  about  it,  and  then 
because  the  author  sought  to  draw  from  it  no  absolute  conclusion. 
Here  it  may  be  observed  that  whenever  dramatists  set  about 
solving  social  theories,  they  rarely  arrive  at  any  practical  definition. 

Did  Dumas,  for  example,  with  "  La  Femme  de  Claude  "  con- 
vince the  world  that  the  murder  of  an  erring  wife  was  perfectly 
legitimate  ?  No  !  not  any  more  than  Sardou  with  "  Georgette  " 
will  persuade  any  lover  that  he  must  not  espouse  a  young  girl  who 
is  dear  to  him  because  her  mother  has  led  a  scandalous  life.  The 
greatest  dramatists  of  the  world — I  need  mention  only  Shakespeare 
and  Moliere,  as  representing  England  and  France — like  the  true 
geniuses  they  were,  never  maintained  any  humanitarian  thesis. 
There  is  a  lesson  in  all  their  works,  but  there  is  no  pretension  in 
the  precepts  taught.  French  dramatists  seem  to  be  overlooking 

NEW  SERIES. — VOL.   VII  C 


18  THE    THEATRE.  [JAN.  i,  1886. 

the  distinction  there  is  between  novels  and  plays.  In  a  book  there 
is  space  for  an  idea  to  be  developed,  but,  regarding  plays,  what 
with  the  rapidity  of  action  and  the  requirements  of  the  stage,  it  is 
necessary  to  go  straight  to  the  point  without  seeking  to  draw  con- 
clusions from  a  situation  that  should  be  clearly  defined  ;  and ,  when 
a  play  by  Sardou  is  in  question,  these  remarks  are  all  the  more 
called  for  ;  indeed,  this  author  would  be  the  first  himself  to 
acknowledge  the  right  of  the  public  to  debate  about  his  work, 
for  discussion  denotes  merit. 

Personally,  I  feel  inclined  to  regret  seeing  Sardou  walk  in 
Dumas'  footsteps ;  it  is  hardly  the  best  course  open  to  this 
talented  dramatist.  The  stage  is  a  matter  of  convention,  materi- 
ally and  morally ;  and,  to  expect  it  to  be  an  exact  representation 
of  real  life  is  to  ask  an  impossibility.  In  spite  even  of  the  wonderful 
scenery  we  get  nowadays,  every  spectator  knows  that  the  castle 
represented  is  merely  a  matter  of  canvas  painting,  and  not  the 
result  of  the  stonemason's  labour  ;  and  just  as  an  architect  would 
never  have  the  idea  of  visiting  a  theatre  to  study  specimens  of  his 
art,  neither  would  a  mother  regulate  her  conduct  from  any  stage 
representation  she  may  witness.  Not  that  "  Georgette  "  is  without 
merit.  And  though  I  consider  that  Sardou  is  on  a  false  track  in 
going  over  the  ground  travelled  in  "  Le  Fils  de  Coralie,"  "  Les 
Idees  de  Madame  Aubray,"  "  Odette,"  "  Les  Meres  Repenties,' 
and  a  number  of  similar  pieces  that  have  never  brought  about  any 
reform  in  our  social  habits,  I  have  no  intention  whatever  of  de- 
tracting from  his  general  great  talent.  "  Georgette,"  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  ends  with  an  interrogatory,  a  conclusion  which  cannot  be 
expected  to  please  spectators,  who,  for  the  most  part,  are  eager 
to  know  what  is  to  become  of  the  characters  before  them.  This, 
it  may  be  contested,  is  the  "  old  style  "  ;  perhaps  so,  but  the  public 
like  the  "  old  style "  better  than  some  dramatists  think.  How 
many  playgoers  have  we  not  all  come  across,  who,  on  their  return 
home,  even,  have  not  been  able  to  shut  out  the  heroine  from  their 
sight,  and  who  have  shown  more  or  less  satisfaction  with  the  piece 
according  to  the  fate  reserved  for  her  by  the  author.  Like  all 
Victorien  Sardou's  plays,  "  Georgette  "  has  been  the  literary,  as 
well  as  the  dramatic  event,  of  the  month.  I  am  not  called  upon 
to  foretell  it?  fate,  but  however  successful  it  may  be,  financially,  I, 
for  one,  shall  never  be  able  to  speak  as  highly  of  the  Academician's 
last  work  as  of  many  that  have  preceded  it.  The  plot  may  be 


TAN.  i,  i886.]  PARIS    AT   THE    PLAY.  I9 

briefly  told.  Paula  d' Albert!  is  the  offspring  of  an  ex-ballet  girl, 
ex-chanteuse  at  cafe  concerts,  who,  after  blossoming  into  a  fan  we 
galante,  when  she  was  called  "  La  Belle  Jojotte,"  finally  became 
the  Duchess  of  Carlington,  and  who,  through  her  titled  Irish 
husband,  obtained  a  footing  in  aristocratic  society.  It  was  for  the 
innocent  Paula,  rather  than  herself,  that  Georgette  hankered  for 
respectability,  for  Paula  has  been  carefully  brought  up,  and  her 
mother  is  desirous  of  marrying  her  to  Gontran  de  Chabreuil,  a 
young  man  of  noble  lineage,  a  match  his  mother,  the  Countess 
de  Chabreuil,  has  in  no  way  opposed,  whilst  she  supposes  Paula 
(who  is  the  friend  of  her  niece,  Aurore)  to  be  of  good  family,  even 
though  her  own  project  was  to  see  Gontran  and  Aurore  united.  It 
is  Clavel  de  Chabreuil,  a  brother  of  the  stately  Countess,  who 
breaks  down  the  edifice  so  carefully  constructed  by  the  Duchess 
of  Carlington,  ex-Georgette. 

Clavel  had  known  Jojotte  in  her  early  days  ;  he  had  been,  in 
fact,  the  friend  of  Paula's  father,  a  certain  Cardillac,  long  de- 
ceased ;  and  he  it  is  who  reveals  to  the  Countess,  not  only  the 
secret  of  the  girl's  birth,  but  the  terrible  past  of  the  Duchess  of 
Carlington.  Gontran  pleads  for  the  object  of  his  choice,  but  his 
love  is  not  of  the  robust  order,  for  he  submits  to  his  mother's  will, 
and  the  marriage  is  definitely  broken  off.  Thus  finishes  the  piece, 
which  assuredly  does  not  prove  that  an  honourable  man  cannot* 
marry  the  daughter  of  a  courtesan,  nor,  to  speak  the  truth,  does 
it,  any  the  more,  prove  the  possibility  of  such  an  union.  Paula, 
on  learning  through  the  indiscretion  of  a  maid  the  cause  of  the 
rupture  between  herself  and  Gontran,  would,  but  for  the  interven- 
tion of  Clavel,  feel  inclined  to  condemn  her  mother.  The  duchess, 
on  her  side,  is  ready  to  make  any  sacrifice  for  the  happiness  of  her 
child ;  even  that  of  exile.  But  Paula  (her  better  feelings  now 
asserting  themselves)  refuses  tolet  her  mother  depart.  Suppose,  that 
in  "Odette"  the  mother  had  identified  herself  to  her  child,  and  you 
will  have  the  same  scene.  The  filial  submission  of  Gontran  is  to 
be  understood  if  one  credits  him  only  with  a  moderate  love  for 
Paula;  but  Shakespeare  does  not  treat  love  in  M.  Sardou's  style. 
Juliet,  for  instance,  despite  the  parental  orders  given  her,  abandons 
herself  and  her  love  to  Romeo ;  and,  though  maternal  affection  is 
capable,  as  the  world's  history  has  often  proved,  of  the  greatest 
heroism,  the  same  cannot  be  expected  of  an  ardent  passion, 
which,  unconsciously,  but  surely,  breaks  all  barriers. 


c  2 


20  THE   THEATRE.  [JAN.  i, 

Gontran  de  Chabreuil  reasons  too  much  for  a  man  desperately 
in  love,  and  one  of  the  weak  points,  or  rather  personages,  in  M. 
Sardou's  play  is  this  hero,  who  yields  readily  to  the  conventions  of 
society,  and  thus  acts  in  direct  opposition  to  the  theory  set  forth 
by  M.  Sardou  at  the  beginning.  It  would  have  been  better  to 
have  pitted  against  the  laws  of  the  world  a  love  of  an  overpower- 
ing and  resistless  kind,  and  then  we  could  have  seen  on  which  side 
lay  the  victory.  But,  no  !  Gontran  contents  himself,  on  leaving 
Paula,  with  a  friendly  shake  of  the  hand.  If  there  is  not  a  fifth 
act,  in  which  Gontran  marries  Aurora,  the  spectator  nevertheless 
thoroughly  understands  that  this  nuptial  ceremony  is  to  be  gone 
through,  which  takes  away  a  deal  of  the  interest  from  this  lover 
whose  feelings  change  so  quickly. 

•'Georgette,"  however,  in  spite  of  its  defects  from  a  dramatic  point 
of  view,  is  a  Parisian  success,  a  success  which  is  mainly  due  to 
the  interpretation.  Mdme.  Tessandier  has  created  the  role  of 
Georgette,  Duchess  of  Carlington,  with  exquisite  art,  and  her 
somewhat  harsh  voice  admirably  suits  the  role  of  the  ex-cabotine 
who  has  become  a  fine  lady.  Everybody  knows  the  easy  style  of 
Dupuis  ;  an  actor  with  a  naturalness  of  manner  that  never  stood 
him  in  better  stead  than  it  does  as  Captain  Clavel.  And  nothing 
but  praise  is  needed  for  Mdlle.  Brandes  as  Paula  and  Mdme.  Fro- 
mentin  as  Mdme.  de  Chabreuil,  as  well  as  for  the  others  who  help 
to  make  up  a  splendid  ensemble. 

Caoudal,  the  sculptor,  made  a  statuette  of  the  celebrated  courte- 
san, Sapho,  whom  the  ancients  called  the  tenth  muse  ;  the  model, 
Fanny  Legrand,  sat  for  this  statue,  and  the  artist  fell  in  love  with 
his  model :  not  an  unusual  occurrence  !  Neither  is  it  unusual  that 
their  ties  should  last  but  a  short  time.  However,  during  the  course 
of  her  passing  fancies  or  adventures,  Fanny  Legrand  acquired  the 
name  of  Sapho,  by  which  she  was  afterwards  known  by  all  those 
whose  home  she  had  for  a  short  or  long  period  shared.  Sapho 
goes  from  the  sculptor  to  the  poet,  from  the  poet  to  the  engineer, 
and  thus,  descending  the  social  scale,  she  becomes  the  mistress  of 
an  engraver,  a  poor  wretch,  who,  swayed  by  passion  for  this 
dangerous  siren,  when  ruined  by  her,  could  not  decide  to  leave  her ; 
but,  like  the  madman  that  he  was,  committed  forgery,  and  expiated 
in  gaol  the  folly  of  having  adored  to  excess  a  woman  whom  dozens  of 
men  had  loved  before  him.  The  crime  of  Joseph  Flamant,  the 
engraver,  did  not  abate  Sapho's  sentiments  for  the  prisoner ;  for 


JA5.  i,iSS6.]  PARIS    AT    THE    PLAY.  21 

•she  was  present  at  the  trial,  and  on  hearing  the  culprit's  sentence, 
publicly  displayed  affection  for  the  man  ;  affection  that  of  whatever 
nature  it  may  appear  to  be,  cannot  in  a  heart  like  that  of  Sapho, 
stand  the  test  of  separation. 

Jean  Gaussin,  a  young  provincial,  with  a  consulate  career  before 
him,  meets  Fanny  Legrand  at  a  ball.  In  his  eyes,  she  is  not  the 
base  courtesan,  Sapho,  but  a  woman  mixing  in  shady  company. 
The  intimacy  that  springs  up  after  the  ball  is  not  intended  by  Jean 
Gaussin  to  be  in  the  least  serious  ;  and  he  sets  to  work  seriously 
in  the  cosy  little  room  prepared  for  him  in  the  capital  by  his  uncle, 
Cesaire,  and  his  aunt,  Divonne,  who  had  come  from  the  country 
-expressly  to  look  after  the  comforts  of  the  spoiled  boy,  but  if  Jean 
Gaussin  has  forgotten  the  eventful  evening  not  so  Fanny  Legrand, 
and  seemingly  athirst  for  love,  terrible  results  ensue. 
C'cst  Venus  tonic  entiere  a  sa  proie  attachee. 

Sapho  now  longs  for  a  quiet  home,  with  a  good  fireside  in 
winter  and  walks  in  the  forest  in  summer,  relieved  by  an  exchange 
of  kisses.  Where  is  the  young  man,  be  he  provincial  or  not,  who 
can,  with  such  an  existence  as  that  sketched  out  to  him  by  a 
seductive  woman,  keep  to  the  straight  path  ?  Gaussin  does  not 
hesitate  long  ;  besides,  both  the  uncle  Cdsaire  and  aunt  Divonne 
are  home  again  by  this  time,  whereas  Fanny  Legrand  is  by  his 
side,  almost  at  his  feet. 

The  spring  comes,  and  Gaussin  and  Fanny  Legrand  are  de- 
sirous of  leaving  Paris.  As  Nadaud,  the  poet,  says,  it  is  in  a 
"  thatched  cottage,  covered  with  moss  and  verdure,  small  for  one, 
and  yet  large  enough  for  two,"  that  they  would  hide  their  happi- 
ness. When  on  this  house-hunting  expedition  they  find  themselves 
one  day  at  Ville  d'Avray.  The  cottage  would  be  quickly  taken  if 
Fanny  Legrand  had  matters  entirely  in  her  own  hand.  Whilst 
she  is  arranging  terms  with  the  owner,  Jean  Gaussin  meets  with 
•some  old  friends.  They  chat,  and  the  name  of  Sapho  is  pronounced, 
when  the  terrible  and  eventful  past  of  his  mistress  is  revealed  to 
'him.  Sick  at  heart,  he  goes  away,  to  come  back  again  quickly, 
for  Sapho  soon  reconquers  her  prey. 

The  passion  between  two  people  that  a  host  of  considerations 
should  keep  apart,  becomes  a  double  martyrdom.  Quarrels  takes 
place,  each  succeeding  one  being  more  violent  than  the  last,  and 
they  resolve  to  part.  Jean  Gaussin  is  to  go  back  to  his  people  in 
ihe  country,  and  Sapho  will  resume  her  Bohemian  life.  Each 


22  THE   THEATRE.  [JAN.  i,  1886. 

reckoned  without  the  passion  that  devoured  them.  First,  it  is, 
Fanny  who  is  dismissed,  and  he  goes  home,  and  then  we  find 
Gaussiri  back  in  Paris,  entreating  Sapho  to  start  with  him  for  some 
far-off  city,  where  he  is  appointed  Consul.  But  the  love  of  Sapho 
is  dead.  She  has  seen  the  engraver,  Flamant,  since  he  came  out 
of  prison.  The  nostalgic  de  la  boue  comes  over  her.  Her  heart 
no  longer  beats  for  Gaussin,  and  she  leaves  him  without  a  regret, 
writing,  for  a  final  adieu,  a  letter  in  which  she  counsels  him  to 
marry  some  honest  girl. 

This  is  the  rough  plot  of  the  new  Gymnase  pi  ay,  or  rather  of 
the  study  by  MM.  A.  Daudet  and  A.  Belot.  I  have  dwelt  only 
upon  the  main  points,  because  the  book  was  already  so  well  known 
that  a  recital  of  the  smaller  incidents  seems  to  me  unnecessary. 
There  is  not  in  "  Sapho,"  as  in"  Georgette,"  any  problem  set  forth. 
The  play  is  simply  a  true  and  curious  exposition  of  certain  social 
customs.  The  authors  have  made  no  attempt  to  rehabilitate 
Sapho  ;  she  remains  what  she  is — a  depraved  woman,  with  instincts 
incapable  of  the  least  concession  to  a  man  she  has  tired  of.  The 
type  is  not  as  rare  as  some  people  think.  Whether  Jean  Gaussin  is 
loved  or  not,  his  affection  is  always  deep-rooted,  otherwise  he  could 
never  have  tolerated  life  with  Sapho,  and  but  for  this  passion  of  his 
having  saturated  his  whole  system,  how  would  he  have  been  able 
to  endure  the  presence  of  Flamant's  child  that  Sapho  has  har- 
boured, to  say  nothing  of  putting  up  with  so  worthless  a  woman., 
whose  shame  did  not  prevent  him  loving  her  ? 

I  will  not  argue  as  to  whether  such  a  picture  as  this  is  agreeable 
to  look  upon,  or  whether  it  is  not  in  some  respects  perhaps  mis- 
leading; I  merely,  to  use  a  metaphor,  acknowledge  the 
authenticity  of  the  picture,  and  on  that  score  I  consider  Daudet 
and  Belot  have  incontestably  succeeded.  Their  difficulty  lay  in 
making  the  public  accept  the  character  of  Sapho,  and  it  was, 
moreover,  incumbent  on  them  to  find  an  actress  capable  of  playing  so 
trying  a  role.  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  Sapho  is  not  an  ordinary 
courtesan.  She  is  not  a  Dame  aux  Camelias,  whose  love  for 
Armand  Duval  is  said  so  to  regenerate  her  that  she  dies  of  it  ; 
neither  is  she  another  Marco,  the  fille  de  marbre  of  Parriere,  who 
only  judges  of  man  from  a  money  point  of  view.  Sapho  gives 
and  does  not  sell  herself ;  her  love,  when  she  loves,  is  in  this  way 
sincere,  namely,  that  she  can  transfigure  herself,  and  become  what 
her  admirer  of  the  moment  wants  her  to  be  ;  but  loving  no  longer, 


JAN   i,  1886.]  PARIS    AT    THI-:    PLAY  23 

she  is  a  common-place  creature,  going  from  studio  to  studio.      It 
is  a  double  role,   therefore,   that  the  actress  has  t<>  i  and 

Madame  Jane  Hading  is  entitled  to  the  high-  : limns  for  tin- 

marvellous  talent  she  has  brought  to  bear  upon  ;i  difficult  char, 
by    her    acting    as    Sapho.        Madame    Jane     Hadin 
the  front  rank  amongst  French  actresses,  and  the  expectal 
that  were  formed  of  her  in"  Le  Maitre  de  Forges  "  have  hern  fully 
realised.      They   have    been   superseded,    I    think,    because   the 
character  is  in  many  respects  a  repugnant  part  for  an  actress  of 
refinement   to   grapple  with,  especially  in   presence   of  a  critical 
audience  like  that  of  the  Gymnase.      To  attain  fame  on  the 
it  is,  of  course,  wise  on  the  part  of  any  actress  to  have  no  positive 
predelection  for,    or  -prejudice   against,    any   distinctive  line    of 
business.     Look  at  Rachel.      After    "  Phedre  "  she   played  "  Le 
Moineau  de  Lerbie  ;"  and  after  "Theodora,"  Mdme.  Sarah  1 
hardt  will  be  playing  "  Marion  Delorme."      Without  making  any 
comparisons,  I  give  it  as  my  opinion  that  in  the  theatrical  world  a 
star  of  some  magnitude  has  arisen  in  Mdme.  Jane  Hading,  whose 
artistic  career  bids  fair  to  be  great.      M.  Damala,  in  the  role  of 
Gaussin,  apart  from  a  defective  intonation,  acquits  himself  admir- 
ably in  the  scenes  of  passion,  for  the  forcible  expression  of  which 
the  actor  is  well  fitted.    His  task  is  not  an  easy  one,  but  he  accomp- 
lishes   it   very  efficiently.      As  is  the  custom    at   the  Gvmnase. 
all  the  secondary  and  minor  roles  are  well  interpreted.      In   proof 
of  this,  I  need  only  mention  the  names  of  Landrol,  Lagrani;v,  and 
Mesdames  Darlaud  and  Desclauzas. 

To  sum  up,  from  a  book  which  did  not  seem  to  have  t  he- 
materials  of  a  play,  Daudet  and  Belot  have  adapted  a  remarkable 
piece.  The  conventional  theatrics.1  story  has  no  place  in 
"  Sapho,"  for  the  jeune  premier  does  not  marry  the  .  but 

these  clever  collaborateurs  have  given  us  a  sketch  of  Paris  life, 
interesting  even,  I  venture  to  say,  to  those  who  do  not  know  it  : 
whereas,  for  those  who  do,  many  a  souvenir  will  be  evoked. 
Consequently,  it  will  more  than  suffice  to  draw  the  public  for  a 
hundred  nights  to  come. 


24  THE    THEATRE.  [TAN.  i,  1886 


©ur  flfcusical^Boy. 


/CONCERTS  were  plentiful  and  good  in  quality  throughout  the 
V^  greater  part  of  the  past  month.  It  is  with  sincere  pleasure  that 
I  am  able  to  credit  all  the  new  orchestral  and  choral  enterprises  (dealt 
with  at  some  length  in  my  last  budget)  with  unquestionable  and  well- 
merited  success.  The  third  Brinsmead  Concert  had  to  contend  against 
one  of  the  most  fiendish  attacks  of  bad  weather  that  ever  yet  tried  to 
drown  and  snuff  out  a  juvenile  musical  undertaking  by  sheer  raining  and 
blowing  ;  but  the  programme  was  so  attractive  that  it  filled  St.  James's 
Hall  to  overflowing,  and  with  an  audience  of  music-lovers,  such  as  true 
artists  rejoice  to  sing  and  play  to.  Kapellmeister  Ganz,  the  chef  of  the 
evening,  had  arranged  an  interesting  menu,  and  had  manifestly  bestowed 
more  time  and  pains  upon  rehearsal  than  his  predecessors  in  office — I 
mean,  of  course,  in  connection  with  the  Brinsmead  enterprise.  He  con- 
ducted, moreover,  with  laudable  steadiness,  spirit,  and  discretion — con- 
sequently all  the  orchestral  numbers,  even  the  more  intricate  episodes  of 
the  "Lenore"  symphony,  went  extremely  well.  Absolute  novelties  did 
not  figure  in  the  programme ;  but  two  of  its  items  were  nearly  new 
to  the  London  public,  the  first,  M.Saint-Saen's  P.F.  concerto  in  C 
minor,  having  been  produced  at  one  of  the  Chevalier  Ganz's  concerts 
some  years  ago,  when  it  achieved  a  succes  d'estime,  and  was  heard  no  more 
until  the  other  night ;  whilst  the  second,  a  septet  in  E  flat  for  P.P., 
trumpet,  and  strings  by  the  same  composer,  had  only  been  heard  there- 
tofore by  Londoners  in  the  form  of  a  "  mo^eau  d'occasion  a  quatre 
mains,"  arranged  for  the  pianoforte  by  M.  Saint-Saens  himself.  At  the 
Brinsmead  concert  of  December  5,  both  these  compositions  were  pre- 
sented to  the  audience  under  exceptionally  favourable  circumstances,  for 
the  author  of  their  being  took  part  in  their  performance,  and  it  may 
fairly  be  assumed  that  their  interpretation  was  pretty  nearly  what,  in  his 
opinion,  it  ought  to  have  been.  Indeed,  I  have  no  doubt  that  this  was 
the  case.  But  they  failed  to  stir  those  present  to  utter  anything  like 
enthusiastic  approval.  The  fact  is  that,  like  the  majority  of  the  French 
maestro' s  more  important  works,  this  concerto  and  septet  are  so  ingenious, 
and  so  learned,  and  so  painstaking,  that  a  conscientious  effort  to  pay 
them  the  full  attention  they  deserve  results  in  no  inconsiderable  weari- 
ness to  their  hearers.  If  M.  Saint  Saens'  music  were  as  sympathetic  as 
it  is  clever,  he  would  be  the  first  composer  of  the  day.  I  might  go  even 
farther,  without  fear  of  contradiction  at  the  hands  of  any  skilled  musician, 
and  say  that  no  composer  of  any  period  has  exceeded  him  in  mere 
cleverness  ;  not  even  Beethoven,  Berlioz,  or  Wagner.  He  is,  moreover, 


JAN.  i,i886.]  OUR     MUSICAL-BOX.  25 

a  contrapuntist  of  the  first  water,  and  as  fertile  in  contrivances  as  J.  S.  ];. 
himself.     But  all  his  music,  unlike  the  poet  of  the  Latin  adage,  is  "  made 
not  born."     One  is  impressed  by  its  immense  laboriousness  ;  not  by  its 
beauty.     I  have  heard  works  by  Saint-Saens  to  which  the  famous  protest 
against  intricate  dullness  attributed  to   Rossini,  seemed  to  me  eminently 
applicable.     "Difficult!  would  it  were  impossible  !"      The  most  (I  ha.l 
almost  written  the  only)  spontaneous  composition  of  his  with  which  lam 
acquainted  is  "  La  Danse  Macabre  "  ;  and  that,  tremendously  effective 
though  it  be  when  adequately  performed,  is  after  all  little  more  than  a 
musical  jest  of  a  peculiarly  grim  character.      To   revert  to  his  concerto 
and  septet,  produced  at  the  third  Brinsmead  Concert,  they  were  exactly 
what,  before  I  heard  them,  I  expected  them  to  be ;  clever  enough  to 
make  a  clean  sweep  of  all  the  medals  and  prizes  for  composition  given 
by  all  the  European  Conservatoires  put  together ;  but  as  forlorn  of  that 
inner  emotion  which  places  a  composer  en  rapport  with  an  audience  by 
the  magical  contagion  of  genuine  passion,  as  in  a  proposition  of  Euclid. 
M.  Saint-Saens'  pianoforte   playing  exhibits   a  marked  psychical  affinity 
to  his  talent  for  composition.     It  is  accomplished,  musicianly,  intelligent, 
technically  irreproachable — everything  that   it   should  be,  except  sym- 
pathetic.    There  are   not  twenty  pianists  living  who   can  play  as  well ; 
but  there  are  hundreds  upon  hundreds,   counting  in  the  first  flight  of 
dilettanti,  who  can  play  far  better.     In  a  word,  to  me  M.  Saint-Saens  is  a 
great  musical  disappointment.     Not  so  Mr.  Edward  Lloyd,  however,  who 
sang  too  well  for  his  own  interests   on  December  5,  eliciting  redemands 
which,  though  fully  justified  by  the  supreme  quality  of  his  performance, 
were  unreasonable  in  number,  and  so  peremptory  to  boot,  that  he  could 
not  choose  but  defer  to  them       Those   who  would   discover  how  an 
English  song  may  be  sung  to   absolute  perfection  should  keep  a  sharp 
look-out  on  concert  announcements  to  come  ;  and,  when   they  see  Mr. 
Lloyd  set  down  in  black  and  white  to  give  his  vocal  rendering  of  Lover's 
"Wake  from  the  Grave,"  should  make  a  dead  certainty  of  attending  that 
particular   musical    entertainment.       They   will    never   repent   the   sum 
expended  upon  their  vouchers. 

It  has  caused  me  great  regret  to  learn  that  the  meaning  and  purpose 
of  some  remarks  published  in  the  last  Musical-Box,  and  having  relation 
to  Dr.  Engel's  song,  "  Darling  Mine,"  have  been  misinterpreted  by  that 
ripe  musician  and  able  critic  as  intended  on  my  part  to  prove  damaging 
to  the  composition  in  question,  and  painful  to  himself.  Nothing  could 
have  been  farther  from  my  mind  than  either  of  these  unfriendly  objects 
when  I  penned  the  lines  recording  my  opinion  that  "Darling  Mine"  was 
unsuitable  to  Mdme.  Patti's  voice.  If  my  expression  of  that  opinion  was 
in  the  least  disagreeable  to  Dr.  Engel,  I  am  sorry ;  but  it  was  only  an 
opinion,  after  all,  formed  upon  technical  details  of  the  song,  such  as 
intervals,  compass,  &c.,  and  by  no  means  implying  any  slur  upon  the 
musical  merits  of  "  Darling  Mine."  Had  I  written  that  Beethoven's  u  In 
questa  tomba  oscura  "  was  unsuitable  to  Mdme.  Patti's  voice,  and  would, 
therefore,  probably  not  figure  frequently  as  an  item  in  her  concert-room 


26  THE     THEATRE.  [JAN.  i,  1886. 

repertoire,  I  should  not  have  expected  to  be  reproved  for  denouncing  that 
composition  as  worthless  or  worse.  The  fact  is,  brevis  esse  laboro,  obscurus 
fio.  When  I  alluded  to  the  curiosity  expressed  by  friends  of  Mdme.  Patti 
as  to  her  reasons  for  singing  "  Darling  Mine,"  and  mentioned  that 
assurances  had  reached  her  to  the  effect  that  that  curiosity  was  shared  by 
members  of  the  musical  public,  I  should  have  gone  on  to  explain  that  the 
musical  profession  favours  the  development  of  a  peculiarly  green  and 
acrid  jealousy  in  its  followers  ;  that  the  advantages  accruing  to  a  living 
composer  through  the  performance  of  his  works  by  any  singer  of  para- 
mount talent  and  popularity  are  very  considerable  ;  that  Mdme.  Patti,  in 
common  with  other  gifted  vocal  artists,  is  continuously  beset  by  applica- 
tions, varying  between  the  piteous  appeal  and  the  haughty  menace,  from 
composers  to  sing  their  songs  ;  and  that  whenever  she  summons  up 
courage  to  select  one  of  these  for  performance  from  among  the  thousands 
that  reach  her  every  year,  all  the  song-writers  whose  productions  she  has 
not  chosen  lift  up  their  voices  in  loud  protest  and  complaint,  and  are 
especially  eager  to  know  (referring  to  the  song  on  which  she  has  fixed) 
"  what  she  can  see  in  that  thing  entitling  it  to  the  high  honour  of  being 
sung  by  her  ?  "  It  was  to  curiosity  of  this  class  that  I  referred  in  the 
paragraph  to  which  Dr.  Engel  has  taken  exception.  Surely  that  veteran 
musician,  to  whom  the  bitter  humours  of  his  profession  are  no  mystery, 
must  have  been  well  aware,  when  the  great  joy  befel  him  of  hearing 
"  Darling  Mine  "  inimitably  sung  by  his  old  friend  Adelina  Patti,  whom 
he  has  known  from  her  childhood,  that  what  was  honey  and  asphodel  to 
him  was  gall  and  wormwood  to  scores  of  other  composers  ;  and  that, 
consequently,  the  fact  that  Mdme.  Patti  has  been  pestered  by  inquiries  of 
the  above  description,  emanating  from  musicians,  cannot  possibly  beheld 
to  impair  the  musical  merits  of  his  song.  On  the  contrary,  the  circum- 
stances that  Mdme.  Patti,  whose  artistic  intelligence  is  of  a  very  high 
class,  chose  to  sing  "  Darling  Mine,"  and  that  her  doing  so  lashed  a  great 
many  less  favoured  song-writers  into  paroxysms  of  envious  exasperation, 
would  seem  to  indicate  that  the  song  must  be  an  uncommonly  good  one. 
That  I  have  said  or  inferred  anythingto  the  contrary,  I  explicitly  deny.  No  one 
knows  better  than  Dr.  Engel,  who  is  apt  to  pass  somewhat  severe  sentences 
upon  the  conceited  and  incompetent  persons  of  either  sex  whose  rubbish 
deluges  the  musical  market,  that  it  is  extremely  difficult  for  a  critic,  how- 
ever goodnatured  and  tolerant  he  may  be,  to  steer  clear  of  composers' 
susceptibilities.  Praise,  superlative  in  quality  and  unlimited  in  quantity, 
is  the  only  pabulum  they  can  digest  with  any  comfort  or  satisfaction  to 
themselves.  Comment,  however  moderate  in  tone,  they  regard  as  personal 
attack,  prompted  by  private  malignity  ;  instead  of  asking  themselves  "Is 
my  sonata,  or  song,  or  opera,  or  symphony  really  as  good  as  it  appears 
to  me  to  be  ?  "  they  shriek,  "  Good  Heavens  !  wha*  have  I  done  to  this 
ruffian  that  he  should  thus  truculently  assail  me  ?  "  If  Mdme.  Patti  had 
ever  done  me  the  honour  to  sing  a  song  of  mine  in  public,  and  all  the 
other  song- writers  in  the  United  Kingdom  had  written  to  her,  asking  her 
what  she  could  possibly  have  been  thinking  of  to  degrade  the  art  of  music 
and  blemish  her  own  reputation  by  lending  herself  to  the  promulgation 


AN.  i,  1886.]  OUR    MUSICAL-BOX.  2; 

of  such  pernicious  drivel,  their  view  of  my  composition  would  leave  me 
calm.  Similarly,  when  "Darling  Mine"  elicited  a  triple  redemand  from 
a  fashionable  Brighton  audience  the  other  day,  Dr.  Engel  scored  so 
largely  that  he  can  afford  to  smile  benevolently  at  any  objections  raised 
to  that  lyric  by  his  fellow-composers. 


Carl  Rosa  has  been  interviewed  again  in  the  provinces — this  time  by  a 
Newcastle  journalist,  to  whom  he  has  disclosed  his  programme  for  the 
coming  operatic  season,  which  will  open  at  Liverpool  about  the  middle 
of  January.  He  contemplates  the  production  of  three  novelties  in  the 
course  of  his  tournee  ;  Mackenzie's  new  opera,  which  is  already  in  the 
printers'  hands,  and  will,  ere  long,  be  published  by  Messrs.  Novello  and 
Co.;  "Fadette"  (Les  Dragons  de  Villars)  by  Maillard  and  Grist,  with 
Marie  Roze  (who  will  create  the  title  role),  Julia  Gaylord,  and  Barton 
McGuckin ;  and  "  Ruy  Bias,"  by  Marchetti  and  Hugo,  the  principal 
characters  to  be  sustained  by  Marie  Roze  and  Leslie  Crotty.  Mr.  Rosa 
announces  his  intention  of  giving  that  able  and  earnest  musician  Mr.  F. 
Conder,  a  commission  to  compose  an  opera  for  his  company,  as  soon  as  a 
suitable  libretto  shall  come  to  hand. 


Few  living  men,  if  any,  are  better  qualified  by  intelligence  or  study  to 
discourse  instructively  upon  the  subject  of  the  late  Richard  Wagner's 
operatic  works  than  is  Mr.  Carl  Armbruster,  the  accomplished  conductor 
who  has  been  intimately  associated  with  and  concerned  in  all  the  produc- 
tions of  Wagnerian  "  tone-drama "  in  this  metropolis  ever  since  Hans 
Richter  first  undertook  the  gigantic  task  of  popularising  those  noble 
creations  of  genius  in  a  musical  milieu  at  that  time  strongly  prejudiced 
against  them.  On  the  loth  ult.,  Mr.  Armbruster  delivered  the  last  of  his 
series  of  luminous  lectures  "  On  the  Musical  Dramas  of  Richard  Wagner," 
at  the  London  Institution,  before  a  numerous  and  highly  sympathetic 
audience,  which  listened  with  intense  interest  to  his  eloquent  exposition 
of  the  dead  Master's  musical  doctrines.  He  laid  especial  stress  upon  the 
progressive  character  of  Wagner's  operatic  compositions,  comparing  them 
to  sequent  notes  in  an  ascending  scale,  the  culminating  tone  of  which  is 
"  Parsifal,"  an  unmistakably  Christian  drama — a  subtle  allegory,  instinct 
with  sublimer  motives  than  the  mere  earthly  passions  that  animate  the 
episodes  of  romance  or  folk-lore,  upon  which  his  earlier  operas  were 
built  up.  Mr.  Armbruster  dilated  with  contagious  fervjur  upon  the  ex- 
traordinary force  of  Wagner's  genius,  which  has  overcome  the  formidable 
resistance  once  offered  to  its  influence  in  this  country,  and  has  established 
its  cult  as  firmly  here  as  in  the  Fatherland  itself.  As  a  reformer,  Wagner 
ranks  with  Luther  and  Shakespeare,  in  Mr.  Armbruster's  opinion ;  as  a 
past-master  in  the  art  of  orchestral  writing,  he  is  unsurpassed,  even  by 
Beethoven.  Mr.  Armbruster  declared  himself  well  satisfied  with  the 
development  of  public  taste  for  Wagner's  music  hitherto  achieved  in 
England;  but  he  held  it  to  be  essential  to  the  full  appreciation  of  the 
more  advanced  works  (e.g.,  "Tristan,"  "The  Tetralogy,"  and  "Parsifal") 
that  these  latter  should  be  performed  in  English,  to  which  end  the  orga- 


28  THE  THE  A  TRE.  [JAN.  lf  l886. 

nisation  and  establishment  of  a  permanent  national  opera  house  are 
requisite.  Miss  Cramer,  Mr.  Thorndyke,  and  Mr.  Guy  supplied  vocal 
illustrations  to  Mr.  Armbruster's  discourses  with  conspicuous  ability, 
whilst  the  lecturer  himself,  whose  gifts  as  a  pianist  are  of  a  quite  excep- 
tional nature,  delighted  his  hearers  at  intervals  with  such  fine  interpreta- 
tive renderings  of  Wagnerian  motive  as  are  too  seldom  heard  in  London 
concert-rooms.  A  few  days  later  (Dec.  15)  Mr.  Armbruster  delivered  a 
lecture  at  the  Westbourne  Park  Institute  "  On  the  historical  development 
of  pianoforte  music,"  copiously  illustrating  the  steps  of  advancement  (in 
technique  and  the  use  of  tone-colour)  effected  since  the  days  of  J.  S.  Bach, 
the  founder  of  pianism.  In  the  course  of  this  interesting  entertainment 
Mr.  Armbruster  played  selections  from  the  works  of  ten  great  composers 
for  the  pianoforte,  concluding  his  list  of  specimen  merceaux  by  a  masterly 
performance  of  Liszt's  tremendous  transcription  of  the  Tannhaeuser 
March,  a  very  miracle  of  difficulty.  Westbournia  came  to  the  front  in 
great  force  on  the  occasion,  and  displayed  by  repeated  and  long-enduring 
outbursts  of  enthusiastic  applause  its  gratitude  to  Mr.  Armbruster  for  an 
entertainment  of  which  it  would  be  impossible  to  speak  too  highly. 


"  The  Gipsy  Baron,"  Johann  Strauss's  newest  comic  opera,  with  the 
third  act  of  which  he  was  still  busy  at  Ostend  last  September  during  my 
brief  sojourn  in  "Flemish  Brighton,"  has  been  produced  at  the  Wieden 
Theatre,  in  Vienna,  with  all  imaginable  eclat  t  and  promises  to  enjoy  as 
long  and  remunerative  a  run  as  the  Fledermaus  itself,  which  made  its 
composer's  fortune.  The  book  of  the  Zigenner  Baron  is  by  Moritz  Jokai, 
the  renowned  Magyar  novelist  and  playwright,  and  is  distinguished  from 
the  majority  of  latter-day  operatic  libretti  by  an  absolutely  original  plot, 
the  interest  of  which,  however,  is  so  exclusively  Austro-Hungarian  that  I 
fear  it  may  handicap  the  opera  for  performance  in  Paris  and  London.  A 
brief  sketch  of  the  story  may  possibly,  however,  be  fraught  with  interest 
to  the  readers  of  THE  THEATRE  ;  I  will  therefore  do  my  best  to  compress 
it  into  the  smallest  space  compatible  with  intelligibility.  Shortly  before  the 
outbreak  of  the  War  of  Succession  Maria  Theresa  amnestied  a  number  of 
exiled  Magyar  nobles,  amongst  them  one  Barinkay,  whose  father — a  crony 
of  the  last  Pasha  of  Temesvar  —is  generally  understood  to  have  annexed 
the  Austrian  military  chest  during  the  Austro-Turkish  struggle  for  the 
possession  of  Lower  Hungary,  and  to  have  buried  the  treasure  thus 
acquired.  Young  Barinkay  returns  to  the  paternal  acres,  where  an  old 
gipsy-woman  foretells  all  manner  of  good  luck  to  him,  and  a  family 
friend — one  Carnero,  a  Commissioner  of  Public  Morals — advises  him  to 
lose  no  time  in  espousing  Arsena,  the  only  daughter  of  a  wealthy  but 
illiterate  pig-breeder.  This  worthy  is  ready  and  willing  to  consent  to  the 
match  ;  but  Arsena,  besides  being  in  love  with  a  youth  of  her  own  choice 
cannot  forget  that  her  maternal  great-grandfather  was  an  Archimandrite, 
who  would  be  unlikely  to  rest  in  his  grave  were  she  to  marry  anybody  of 
a  lower  rank  than  that  of  baron.  Barinkay,  who  belongs  to  the  untitled 
nobility,  regards  this  pretension  as  quite  uncalled  for  in  a  pig-breeder's 
daughter,  and  vows  to  be  avenged  on  the  ambitious  maiden.  In 


JAN.  i,  1886.]  OUR    MUSICAL-BOX.  29 

furtherance  of  this  amiable  purpose  a  tribe  of  gipsies  turns  up,  and  « 
Barinkay  as  its  chief,  voivode,  or  "  baron."  He  accepts  office,  and  very 
opportunely  falls  in  love  with  Safli,  a  pretty  Romany  girl,  about  whose 
pedigree  there  is  a  mystery.  She  accepts  him,  and  they  are  wed,  after  a 
fashion.  Shortly  afterwards  he  discovers  the  hidden  treasure,  which  is 
promptly  claimed  by  his  family  friend,  the  Moral  Commissioner,  as  State 
property.  This  functionary  then  denounces  Barinkay  to  Count  Homonay 
a  recruiting  officer,  who  arrives  unexpectedly  upon  the  scene,  as  being  in 
illegal  possession  of  the  long-lost  military  chest,  and,  moreover,  as  having 
contracted  intimate  but  unsanctified  relations  with  Saffi.  Barinkay,  when 
interrogated  with  respect  to  the  latter  of  his  alleged  delinquencies,  some- 
what frivolously  explains  that  "he  was  married  by  a  bullfinch  in  the 
presence  of  a  couple  of  storks."  Count  Homonay  raises  no  objection  to 
this  ornithological  rite,  but  hints  that  Barinkay  will  do  |well  to  give  up 
the  treasure  and  'list  for  a  soldier.  He  does  both,  with  the  promptitude 
born  of  necessity,  and  bids  farewell  to  Saffi,  who  about  this  time  is  suddenly 
discovered  to  be  the  only  surviving  daughter  of  the  last  Pasha  of  Temesvar. 
In  the  third  act  the  Gipsy-Baron,  having  distinguished  himself  during  a 
campaign,  is  raised  to  the  peerage  by  the  Empress-Queen,  and  regularises 
his  position,  as  far  as  Safli  is  concerned,  by  the  aid  of  Holy  Church. 
Arsena's  masher  is  condoned  by  the  pig-breeder,  under  the  soothing  in- 
fluence of  a  profitable  army  contract,  procured  for  him  through  the 
influence  of  Barinkay  ;  in  short,  everybody  is  made  happy  in  3-2  time,  to 
the  strains  of  such  an  inspiriting  waltz  as  only  Johann  Strauss,  of  all 
men  living,  can  compose.  Some  of  the  numbers  are  charming ;  for 
instance  in  Act  i,  all  the  songs  (four  in  number),  a  Bridecake  chorus, and 
a  duet  accompanied  by  full  choir  ;  in  Act  ^  an  admirable  waltz  for 
soprano,  a  chorusof  gipsies,  a  wild  czardas  of  the  true  Magyar  type,  and  a 
brilliant  finale  in  tempo  di  Walzcr.  The  third  act  is  hardly  up  to  the 
musical  mark  of  its  predecessors;  but  on  the  whole  "Der  Zigeuner- 
Baron  "  is  the  most  important  operatic  work  as  yet  given  to  the  world  by 
the  " Waltz-King"  of  the  Kaiserstadt  on  the  "beautiful  blue 
Danube." 


Sophie  Menter,  whose  magnificent  playing  I  hope  to  hear  again  in 
London  before  the  close  of  the  1886  season,  tells  a  good  story  against 
herself  in  connection  with  her  first  appearance  at  a  Court  concert  in  the 
Berlin  Schloss.  Let  me  give  it,  as  nearly  as  possible,  in  her  own  words: 
— "It  was  on  that  occasion,  partly  through  inexperience  and  partly 
through  overpowering  nervousness,  that  I  committed  the  greatest  blunder 
of  my  whole  life  ;  which  is  really  saying  a  good  deal !  I  knew  accurately 
enough  what  Wagner,  Liszt,  and  Verdi  were  like,  but  I  had  never  seen 
the  Emperor  William  ;  for  I  was  quite  a  young  girl,  and  during  my  sojourn 
in  the  German  capital  I  had  thought  of  no  one  but  Tausig,  my  teacher. 
He  was  all  Berlin  to  me.  Having,  moreover,  to  practise  twelve  hours  a 
day,  which  was  my  lot  at  that  time,  you  may  well  imagine  that  I  had  not 
much  leisure  for  staring  at  the  photographs  in  the  shop-windows.  Just 
when  I  was  working  my  very  hardest,  I  received  a  *  command '  to  play  at 


30  THE  THEA  TRE.  QAN.  T,  l886. 

Court.  Of  course,  I  obeyed.  When  I  had  finished  my  solo,  an  old 
gentleman  came  up  to  me,  and  expressed  his  approval  of  my  performance. 
I  thought  to  myself,  '  You  are  the  first  to  speak — you  must  be  the 
Emperor.7  So  I  said  '  Your  Majesty '  to  him.  He  looked  me  hard  in  the 
face,  and  presently  replied,  '  You  are  mistaken,  young  lady  ;  I  am  not  the 
Emperor.'  So  saying,  he  walked  away ;  and  I  noticed  a  general  smile 
which  made  me  feel  profoundly  uncomfortable.  A  little  later  on  another 
grey  old  gentleman  greeted  me.  I  was  desperately  embarassed ;  but  it 
suddenly  struck  me  that  my  second  interlocutor  must  be  the  Emperor — 
he  looked  so  extremely  venerable  ! — and  I  ventured  upon  another  faltering 
*  Your  Majesty' ;  whereupon  he  laughed  in  my  face,  introduced  himself 
to  me  as  '  a  Prince  of  the  Imperial  House  ' ;  and  left  me,  crimson  and 
speechless  with  confusion.  Immediately  afterwards,  a  third  old  gentle- 
man approached  me,  exclaiming,  '  Mademoiselle,  is  it  really  possible  that 
you  do  not  know  the  Emperor  when  you  see  him  ?  Well,  then — I  am  the 
Emperor  ! '  He- then  offered  me  his  arm,  laughing  heartily,  and  conducted 
me  round  the  great  drawing-room,  chatting  away  in  the  most  friendly 
manner.  This,  however,  was  not  my  only  mishap  at  the  Court  of  Berlin. 
One  evening,  I  was  bidden  to  play  at  a  Wednesday  tea-party,  given  by 
the  Empress.  Whilst  awaiting  my  turn  I  was  sitting  down,  and  next  to 
me  was  a  nice-looking  young  officer,  whom  I  took  for  an  aide-de-camp. 
When  the  tims  came  for  me  to  play,  I  asked  him  to  open  the  piano  for 
me,  which  he  did ;  and  presently,  feeling  thirsty,  I  told  him  that  I  should 
like  an  ice.  He  hurried  away  to  the  buffet,  and  brought  me  a  delicious 
-hanachee.  After  we  had  conversed  for  some  minutes  with  all  imaginable 
gaiety,  he  suddenly  observed,  '  Gracious  lady,  allow  me  to  make  myself 
known  to  you.  ;  I  am  Prince  William  of  Prussia.'  And  I  had  made  him 
open  the  piano  for  me  1 " 


Surely  the  strangest  proposition  ever  tendered  to  a  prima-donna  was 
the  startling  business-like  offer  made  to  Christine  Nilsson  not  long  ago 
by  an  American  impresario,  who  expressed  his  desire  to  engage  the  Swedish 
songstress  for  a  series  of  monster  concerts,  to  be  given  in  the  recently 
"  developed"  region  of  Yellowstone  Park.  Terms,  one  thousand  dollars 
for  each  performance,  on  condition  that  Madame  Nilsson,  dressed  as 
Gretchen  in  "  Faust,"  should  nightly  sing  Gounod's  ballad  "  The  King 
of  Thule,"  seated  before  a  Penelope  sewing-machine  in  lieu  of  the  tra- 
ditional spinning  wheel.  A  transparency,  ingeniously  let  into  the  frame 
of  the  machine,' and  rendered  intensely  lustrous  by  the  agency  of  Edison's 
Electric  Light,  had  been  expressly  devised  to  display  the  name  of  the 
patentee  of  the  Penelope  sewing-machine.  Madame  Nilsson,  it  is  stated, 
whilst  admitting  the  liberality  of  the  remuneration  offered  to  her,  objected 
her  reluctance  to  identify  herself  with  so  amazing  an  anachronism  as 
the  presentment  of  a  sixteenth-century  heroine  taking  a  spell  at  the 
latest  thing  in  contemporary  sewing-machines.  But  the  impresario 
earnestly  assured  her  that  his  fellow-citizens  in  the  Wild  West  were  by 
no  means  fanatical  upon  the  subject  of  the  "unities,"  and  did  not 
cleave  to  archoeological  accuracy  of  detail  with  the  servility  engendered 


JAX    i,    iSSG.]  OUR   MUSIC  A  L-I'.OX.  3I 

by  Kiirope;m  prejudice.     His  sole  object  in  61  ii.-r  for  the  tour  in 

.question,  he  added,  was   to   make  the    iVne!  *kig~machjj 

solid  root"  in  the  West  ;  and  he  failed  to   see   what    it   could   I 
Madame  Nilsson  whether  she  sang  her  little  song  to  the  accompan.: 
of  a  "  played-out  old  relic  of  barbarism,  or  of  a  high-;  t>olof 

modern  civilisation."    It  appears  that  Madame  Nilsson  eventually  der.lim-d 
to  enter  into  an  arrangement  altogether  out  of  keeping  with  lu 
the  "  fitness  of  things"  ;  but  no  one  will  deny  that,  from  the  ndver: 
point  of  view,  the  suggestion  submitted  to  her  was  a  brilliant  one,  equally 
creditable  to  the  ingenuity  and  moral  courage  of  its  originator.      'I 
is  genius,  as  well  as  audacity,  in  the   notion  of  soliciting  so  gre 
artist  as  Christine  Nilsson   to  impersonate  "  Marguerite  at  the  Sewing 
Machine." 


Mr.  De  Lara's  "  Vocal  Recitals,"  as  entertainments  of  a  peculiarly  re- 
fined and  artistic  character,  constitute  an  attractive  feature  of  the  winter 
and  summer  musical  seasons.  Their  programmes  invariably  include 
important  novelties  by  the  favourite  song-writers  of  the  day,  including 
the  concert-giver  himself,  who  may  justly  claim  to  have  produced  a  larger 
number  of  unquestionably  popular  songs  than  any  living  composer  of  his 
years — songs,  moreover,  that  are  no  less  cordially  admired  by  the  skilled 
musician  than  by  the  mere  dilettante  of  the  drawing-room.  The  recital 
given  by  Mr.  De  Lara  on  the  i5th  ult.  at  Steinway  Hall  was  an  ex- 
tremely interesting  one.  Six  of  its  vocal  numbers  were  new  to  the  public 
which  received  them,  one  and  all,  with  marked  favour,  thoroughly  de- 
served, in  every  case,  by  their  intrinsic  merits.  The  first  of  these 
novelties  (observing  the  order  in  which  Mr.  De  Lara  introduced  them  to 
his  audience)  was  Mr.  Hervey's  "  Heart  of  my  Heart,"  a  really  beautiful 
setting  of  some  transcendental  words  by  Mr.  William  Hardinge.  Of  the 
three  new  songs  composed  by  Mr.  De  Lara  which  followed  this  charming 
lyric  hard  at  heel  it  would  be  difficult  to  say  which  is  the  most  satisfactory, 
for  each  is  quite  excellent  of  its  kind.  In  "Forsworn"  society 
vocalists  of  both  sexes  will  welcome  a  passionate  melody,  easy  to  sing, 
and  easier  still  to  remember.  In  my  opinion,  its  claims  to  wide  an.l 
lasting  popularity  are  every  whit  as  valid  as  those  of  "  Only  a  Song,"  and 
"  Mine  To-day."  It  is  tuneful,  spontaneous,  and  all  a-glow  with  genuine 
love  fervour.  "Through  the  Hawthorn  Dell,"  and  "  Dedication  "  are 
fascinating  little  idylls,  lifted  high  above  the  ordinary  pastoral  nil-can  by 
a  sweet  irresistible  enthusiasm,  equally  pervading  Mr.  De  Lara's  music 
and  Miss  Probyn's  words.  The  union  of  these  two  shining  talents  is  a 
singularly  happy  one.  As  a  lyric  composer  Signer  Paolo  Tosti  has  scored 
many  distinguished  successes  in  this  country  ;  to  their  number  must  now 
be  added  "  My  Love  and  I,"  through  which  runs  a  vein  of  playful  tender- 
ness that  is  at  once  touching  and  exhilarating.  This  lovely  song  will 
assuredly  be  sung  in  every  concert-room  throughout  the  United  Kingdom 
during  more  than  one  season  to  come ;  and  I  venture  to  predict  a  similar 
distinction  to  De  Lara's  "  Forsworn."  They  are  both  published  by 
Messrs.  Chappell  and  Co.  Another  novelty  with  a  brilliant  future  is 


32  THE     THEATRE  UAN.  i,  1886. 

Moncrieffs  "  For  Old  Custom's  Sake,"  a  serenade  alia  Spagnuola^  which 
tells  a  simple  love-tale  in  strains  alternately  persuasive  and  sprightly — 
sometimes  in  the  minor,  sometimes  in  the  major  mood.  The  song 
abounds  in  catching  phrases  and  pretty  contrasts.  Deliciously  sung  by 
De  Lara,  it  was  warmly  redemanded  by  a  winter-afternoon  audience, 
chiefly  composed  of  ladies.  Volumes  could  not  more  convincingly  testify 
to  the  captivating  effect  it  exercised  over  its  hearers.  The  concert-giver 
had  set  himself  a  heavy  task — that  of  singing  no  fewer  than  twenty  songs, 
several  of  which  taxed  his  vocal  resources  somewhat  severely  ;  but  nothing 
could  be  more  genial  and  finished  than  the  whole  performance,  of  which 
the  last  number  was  sung  every  whit  as  tunefully  and  vivaciously  as  the 
first.  Miss  Eissler  contributed  three  carefully  played  violin  soli  to  the 
entertainment,  which  was  further  embellished  by  Mr.  Beerbohm  Tree's 
superb  recital  of  an  intensely  pathetic  poem  by  Mr.  G.  R.  Sims.  On  the 
whole,  a  matinee  to  be  remembered  with  unalloyed  pleasure. 


Amongst  the  new  musical  publications  forwarded  to  me  in  the  course 
of  the  past  month  are  several  of  which  I  cannot  say  anything  agreeable, 
as  they  belong  to  the  category  of  valueless  rubbish.  Non  ragionam  dilov ; 
far  be  it  from  me  to  hinder  the  public  from  buying  such  stuff,  if  its  taste 
be  that  way.  On  the  other  hand  I  feel  justified  in  calling  attention  to 
"Tosti's  last,"  a  simple,  pathetic  sons?,  hight  "The  love  that  came  too 
late  "  ;  to  '•  Tripping,"  an  easy  pianoforte  piece  by  Signor  (or  is  it  Herr  ?) 
Francesco  Berger,  .which  may  be  safely  recommended  to  juvenile  sight- 
readers  ;  to  "  The  empty  saddle,"  a  bold  bass  ditty  by  Mr.  Hermann  Klein, 
who  has  set  Mr.  Malcolm  Salaman's  spirited  verses  to  appropriate  strains  ; 
and  to  Mr.  G.  F.  Hatton's  "  For  ever  nearer,"  a  drawing-room  lyric 
refreshingly  free  from  offence.  All  these  works  are  published  by  Messrs. 
Chappell,  who  have  also  brought  out  a  handy  little  book  containing  the 
Gilbertian  libretti  of  eight  Sullivanesque  operas,  rare  good  reading,  with 
at  least  half-a-dozen  hearty  laughs  in  every  page.  This  reprint  is  cheap 
and  carefully  produced  ;  as  it  contains  the  words  of  the  "  Mikado  "  its 
claims  to  public  patronage  are  not  exclusively  of  a  retrospective  nature. 
Unqualified  praise  must  be  accorded  to  a  charming  song,  published  under 
the  title  of  "Ever  since  then!"  by  Messrs.  Hutchings  and  Co. — a  melodious 
and  extremely  pretty  setting,  by  Mr.  Gustav  Ernest,  of  some  passionate 
and  poetical  words,  breathing  the  wild  regrets  of  disappointed  love, 
written  by  Mr.  Clement  Scott.  I  can  cordially  recommend  this  produc- 
tion to  concert  and  drawing-room  singers  alike.  If  sung  with  due  fervour 
it  cannot  fail  to  make  a  hit. 

WM.  BEATTY-KINGSTON. 

P  S. — I  feel  it  to  be  my  duty,  at  the  eleventh  hour,  to  add  to  this  budget  a 
brief  mention  of  Mr.  Hamilton  Clarke's  incidental  music  to  the  English 
version  of  "  Faust,"  produced  by  Mr.  Irving  at  the  Lyceum  Theatre  on 
the  i  gth  ult.  The  music  in  question  consisted  of  two  entr'actes  and  a 
witches'  ballet  or  divertissement,  of  which  works  it  is  not  too  much  to 
say  that  they  constituted  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  attractive  fea- 


JAN.  i,  i836.]  OUR    PL  A  Y-BOX.  33 

tines  of  a  performance  replete  with  artistic   merit  of  the  hi-i. 
Mr.  Clarke's  compositions  are  in  every  respect   worthy  of  the  i-; 
successively  pathetic,  weird,    and   sublime — which   th< 
illustrate.      They   abound    in   striking  motivi,    in   musical  learning  and 
fancy,  and  in  rich  instrumentation.      Contrasted  with  the  dull  plat:1, 
of  Marschner  (a   diluted  Weber),  with   the  pedantic  l<>n--windedness  of 
Spohr,  and  with  the  thin  frivolity  of  Lindpaintm-r— by  all  of  which  they 
were  preceded — they  stood  out  in   high   relief  as  strong,  luminous,  and 
genial  musical  entities,  suggested  by  genuine   inspiration   and   wrought 
out  with  masterly  ability.      Mr.  Irving's  fine  taste  and  profoun  : 
never  found  happier  expression  than  in  his  choice  of  so  brilliantly  gifted 
a  composer  as  Mr.  Clarke  for  the  fulfilment  of  a  mission  to  which  so 
many  of  Goelhe's  musical  fellow-countrymen  have  proved  unequal.      I, 
for  one,  shall  not  be   surprised  if  this  Englishman's  incidental  music  to 
the   greatest  of  all   German  stage-plays  obtains  as  cordial  and  grateful 
recognition  in  the  Fatherland  as  it  undoubtedly  will  receive  here,  when  it 
shall  be  the  turn  of  musical  critics  to  have  their  say  about  the  supremely 
intelligent  production  of  "  Faust"  for  which  London  is  indebted  to  Mr. 
Henry  Irving. 


"  FAUST.1' 

The  adaptation  by  W.  O.  WILLS,  in  a  prologue  and  five  arts,  from  Goethe's  tragedy. 
Produced  at  the  Lyceum  Theatre  on  Saturday,  De  •t-mht.T  1'J, 


Mortals : 

Faust     MR.  COXWAY. 

Valentine      MR.  ALKXANDKR. 

Frosch   ...     .  MK.  HAIIWHV. 


Altmayer 
.Brander 

fciii-bil      

Student  ..     .. 
Burgomaster 


.  M::.  HAVILAND. 
.  MR.  K.  TYARS. 
.  MR.  JOHNSON. 

MR.  N.  FOKHKS. 
.      M':.  II.  HOSVK. 

f  Mil.   llKMSLEV. 


Martha 

.MI>-  i.  r 

Ida >KTT. 

Alk-e       M.--  ' 

Catherin        Miss  M' 

Margaret       Mi-s  KI.I.KX  TRRRT. 

Spirit-;: 
Mephistopheles MR.  HKXR<I 


I  M 

Soldier "Ma.  M.  HARVKY.  CUKKHIM>. 

WHEN  all  that  which  is  unsubstantial  in  the  revived  discussion* 
of  Goethe's  poem — so  much  a  part  of  Goethe's  self! — shall 
have  evaporated,  there  will  still  be  a  solid  residuum  to  justify  Mr. 
Irving's  hope  in  the  valid,  practical  issue  of  his  latest  stage  \vork.  If 
it  should  take  people  to  a  study  of  the  original,  as  he  submitted,  in 
the  well-timed  words  addressed  to  his  audience  on  the  first  night  of 
this  notable  production,  a  desired  end  will  be  gained.  Popular 
representations,  let  it  be  remembered,  gave  the  first  impetus  to  the 
legendary  history  of  the  Devil  and  Dr.  Faustus.  That  legend,  from 
being  the  primitive  argument  of  puppet-shows  and  pantomime — we 
still  see  the  traditional  war  of  good  and  evil  powers  in  the  opening 
scene  of  "  Harlequin  Jack  the  Giant-Killer,"  or  "  Mother  Bunch  " 
—was  raised  into  the  service  of  poetry,  of  philosophy,  of  religion. 
The  Church  and  the  Reformation,  Catholic  and  Lutheran,  seized  it 
by  turns.  For  all  dramatic  purpose  it  closed  with  the  lrirst  Part  ; 
nor  is  it  necessary,  or  even  in  the  smallest  degree  a  thing  to  be 
NEW  SERIES— VOL.  VII.  D 


34  THE     THEATRE.  [JAN.  i,  1886. 

desired,  that  we  should  burden  our  consideration  of  this  fragment, 
perfect  in  itself,  although  a  fragment,  by  further  reference  to  the 
Second  Part,  which  bodily  cuts  adrift  the  heart-moving  story  of 
Margaret,  and  leaves  it  to  float  of  itself  for  ever  on  the  pitying  mind 
of  man. 

Stieglitz  spoke  for  thousands  of  honest,  thoughtful   souls  when  he 
deprecated  the  breaking  of  the  spell  by  Goethe's  own  magic  hand,  and 
said  "  The  heait-thrilling  last   scene   of  the   First   Part,   Margaret's 
heavenly  salvation,  and  the  giving-over  of  Faust,  veiled  by  mists  from 
our  sight,  to  inexorable  Destiny,  on  whom  the  duty  of  condemning 
or  acquitting  him  devolved,  should  have  remained  the  last  ;  as,  indeed, 
for  sublimity  and  impressiveness,  it  perhaps  stands  alone  in  the  whole 
circle  of  literature."     The  two  prologues,  neither  of  which  is  that 
which  is  called  the  prologue,  being  no  other  than  the  first  scene  of 
the  poem,  at  the  Lyceum,  should  indeed  be  read  very  carefully.  One, 
at  least,  is  totally  unrepresentable.      The  other,  placed  first  in  the 
book,    may   be  compared   with    Gay's   prologue   to   his    "  Beggar's 
Opera,"  giving  the  key-note  to  the  scheme  which  runs  in  the  author's 
mind.     A  manager  of  a  strolling  actor  troop  confers  with  his  poet  and 
Mr.  Merryman.     Between  them,  the  motive  of  the  drama  is  subtly 
foreshadowed.     "  I  wish  particularly,"  says  the  manager,  "  to  please 
the  multitude,  because  it  lives  and  lets  lives."     He  pictures  the  crowd 
streaming   towards    "our  booth,"   and  forcing   itself  through    "  the 
narrow  portal  of  grace,"  breaking  their  necks  for  a  ticket,  as  in  a  famine 
at  bakers'  doors  for  bread.     "  It  is  the  poet,"  says  he,  "  that  works 
this  miracle  on  people  so  various/'     Conjured  to  rack  his  brains  with 
so  good  an  object,  that  day,  the  poet  begs  that  he  may  hear  nothing 
of  the  motley  multitude.      Conduct   him,   he  implores,   to  the  quiet, 
heavenly  nook,  where  alone  pure  enjoyment  blooms  for  the  singer — 
where  godlike  love  and  friendship  create  and  cherish  the  blessings  of 
the  heart.     Then  he  speaks  of  posterity,  and   rouses  the  instant  ire 
and  impatience  of  Mr.  Merryman.     Suppose  he,  forsooth,  were  to  talk 
about  posterity !     Who  would  there  be  in  that  case  to  make  fun  for 
contemporaries  ?     He   is    not    unreasonable,    for   he   will  grant  you 
Fancy  with  all  her  choruses ;    and   you   may  likewise   let    Reason, 
Understanding,  Feeling,  Passion,  be  heard,  but  not — mark  this  well 
— not  without  Folly. 

"  Or   incident,"    breaks  in    the    manager,    as    if    he    remembered 
Horace. 

Segnius  irritant  animos  demissa  per  aures, 
Quam  quse  sunt  oculis  subjecta  fidelibus,  et  quoe 
Ipse  sibi  tradit  spectator. 

People  come  to  look.  That  is  their  greatest  pleasure.  You  can  only 
subdue  the  mass  by  mass.  Give  them  enough  to  gape  at  with 
astonishment,  and  each  eventually  picks  out  something  for  himself. 
What  avails  it  to  present  an  entirety  ?  The  public  will  pull  it  to  pieces 
for  you,  notwithstanding.  At  this,  the  poet  exclaims  against  the  base- 
ness of  such  a  handicraft.  Not  in  the  least  mortified  by  the  reproof, 
the  manager  tells  his  playwright  that  a  proper  workman  chooses  a 


JAN.  i,  i886.]  OUR    PLAY-BOX. 


proper  tool  for  his  purpose.       "  Consider,"   says  he,    "  you  have  only 
soft  wood  to  split."     Of  the  people  you  are  writing  for,  on. 
by  ennui  to  hear  your  fine  speeches,  another  comes  '.from  an 

ever-loaded  table,  another  from  reading  the  in  \  ,-iven 

knows  what  they  will  do  or  where  they  will  go  when  the  play  is  over. 
"  Begone,"  says  the  poet,  who   is  very   much   of  \Vilh«-lm  ' 
way  of  thinking,  "  Begone,  and  seek    thyself  another    s< 
what,  he  goes  on  to  ask,  in  long-drawn  eloquence,  doth  the  po<  : 
due  every  element  ?      Is  it  not  by  the  harmony  which  hursts  forth 
from  his  breast,  and  draws  the  world  back  again  into  his  heart  ?      In 
the  course  of  a  very  rational  reply,  some  part  of  which   would  have 
done  credit  to  Lord  Bacon — and,  indeed,  is  clearly  in  the  vein  of  that 
philosophy  which  holds  that  a  "mixture  of  lies  doth  ever  add  pleas 
and  that,  if  there  were  taken  from  men's  minds  vain  opinions,  fl. 
ing  hopes,  and  false  valuations,  they  would  become    "poor  drunken 
things,  full  of  melancholy  and  indisposition,  and  unpleasing  to  them- 
selves—  Mr.  Merryman  touches  a  string  wrhich  sets  the  poet  off 
again  at  a  hand-gallop.     "  There  is  no  such  thing,"  says  the  first,  "  as 
pleasing  one  who  is  formed  ;    one  who  is  forming  will  always   be 
grateful." 

"Then,"  says  the  poet,  and  beautifully  he  does  say,  "give  one  also 
back  again  the  times  when  I  myself  was  still  forming;  when  a  foun- 
tain of  crowded  lays  sprang  freshly  and  unbrokenly  forth  ;  when  mists 
veiled  the  world  before  me,  the  bud  still  promised  miracles ;  when  I 
gathered  the  thousand  flowers  that  profusely  filled  all  the  dales !  I 
had  nothing,  and  yet  enough, — the  longing  after  truth  and  the  plea- 
sure in  delusion  !  Give  me  back  those  impulses  untamed,  the  deep 
pain-fraught  happiness,  the  energy  of  hate,  the  might  of  love  !—  < 
me  back  my  youth!"  Addressing  the  poet  as  "Old  gentleman,"  Mr. 
Merryman  tells  him  it  is  his  duty,  in  spite  of  age,  to  sweep  along,  with 
happy  wanderings,  to  a  self-appointed  aim,  and  that  he  will  be 
honoured  not  the  less  on  that  account.  It  is  observable  that  while 
the  poet  may  now  and  then  be  suspected  of  talking  like  a  fool. 
while  Mr.  Merryman,  on  the  other  hand,  is  by  no  means  such  a  fool 
as  he  looks,  the  man  who  chiefly  speaks  common-sense  in  a  practical, 
straightforward,  business-like  way,  is  the  manager.  He  tells  his 
companions  and  servants  there  have  been  words  enough.  He  must 
now  see  deeds.  Why  stand  talking  about  being  in  the 
Hesitation  never  is  in  the  vein !  If  you  give  yourself  out  for  a  poet 
command  poetry.  He  bids  them  both  understand  what  he  wants  ; 
he  would  fain  have  strong  drink  ;  so  now  let  them  brew  away  imme- 
diately. They  are  to  spare  neither  scenery  nor  mechanism.  T 
foreshadowing  the  second  prologue,  which  is  in  Heaven,  he  finishes 
by  telling  them  they  are  free  to  use  the  greater  and  the  lesser  lights, 
and  to  squander  the  stars.  "  There  is  no  want  of  water,  fire,  i 
beasts,  and  birds.  So  tread,  in  this  narrow  booth,  the  whole  circle 
of  creation,  and  travel,  with  considerate  speed,  from  Heaven,  through 
he  world,  to  Hell." 

D     2 


36  THE    THE  A  TRE.  [JAN.  i,  1886. 

Till  this  next  prologue,  "The  Prologue  in   Heaven,"  be  carefully 
read  and  understood,  it  is  utterly  impossible  to  see  the  motive  of  the 
drama  in  its  true  light  ;  and  the  proof  of  this,  without  offence  be  it 
spoken,  is  that  the  drama  at  the  Lyceum  is  advisedly  and  deliberately 
presented  in  a  light  which  is  far  from  true — which  is  indeed  rather  an 
ingenious  and  quasi-artistic   metaphysical   darkness  ;    and   that  the 
audience,  wonderfully  corresponding   with  the  mass  we  have  heard 
described,  in  Horatian  terms,  by  the  manager  in  Prologue  Number 
One,  is  "  subdued  by  mass,"    and  made   to  admire  a  representation 
which  indeed  is  admirable,  but  which  is  wrong.     Evidently  they  have 
not,  in  general,  conned  the  second  prologue,  which  Goethe  wrote  with 
great  care  to  explain  his  intention,  a  fact  that  is  placed  beyond  doubt, 
seeing  that  the  two  prologues  were  added  at  a  time  when  most  of  the 
work  had   been   written  and  re-modelled.       Assuming   a    mediaeval 
naivete  which,  to  any  reader  of  old  religious  books,  or   to  such  as  are 
tolerably    familiar    with    the     Miracle-plays,     is     an    acquittal     of 
irreverence,  Goethe  presents  as  the  persons  in  his  second  Prologue 
the  Lord  and  the  Three  Archangels,  Raphael,  Gabriel,   and  Michael, 
who  sing  an  opening   hymn  of  praise.       The  strain  has  hardly  ceased 
when  Mephistopheles,  with  an  assumed  tone  of  mingled  frankness  and 
respect,  such  as  a  privileged  servant  might  adopt  in   speaking  to  his 
human  master,  brings  a  report  of  earthly  matters.       "  Man,"  he  says, 
"  the  little  god  of  the  world,  is  as  odd  as  on  the  first  day.       He  would 
lead  a  somewhat  better  life  had  you  not  given  him  a  glimmering  of 
Heaven's  light.     He  calls  it  reason,  and  uses  it  only  to  be  the  most 
brutal  of  brutes."     The  Lord  asks — "  Do  you  know  Faust  ?  "      "  The 
Doctor  ?  "  returns  Mephistopheles,  playfully  bandying  interrogation. 
"  My  servant,"  is  the  reply.     "  Verily,"  rejoins  the  fiend,  "  he  serves 
you  after  a  manner  of  his  own.     The  fool's  meat  and  drink  are  not  of 
earth.       The  ferment  of  his -spirit  impels  him  to  the  far-away.       He 
himself  is  half  conscious  of  his  madness.      Of  Heaven  he  demands  its 
brightest  stars,  and  of  earth  its  every  highest  enjoyment.     And  all  the 
near  and  all  the  far  content   not  his  deeply   agitated  breast."       The 
Lord  answers — "  Although  he  does  but  serve  me  in  perplexity  now,  I 
shall  soon  lead  him  into  light."     With  diabolical  effrontery,  Mephis- 
topheles retorts — "  What  will  you  wager  ?     You  shall  lose  him  yet  if 
you  give  me  leave  to  guide  him   quietly  my  own  way."       "  So  long," 
replies  the  Lord,  "  as  he  lives  upon  the   earth,  so  long  he   is  not   for- 
bidden to  thee.     Man  is  liable  to  error  while  his  struggle  lasts."     It  is 
permitted,  then,  to  Mephistopheles  that  he  shall  divert  Faust's  spirit 
from  its  original  source,  and  bear  him,  if  he  can  seize  him,  down  the 
steep  path,  and  stand  abashed  at  last  when  compelled  to  own  that  a 
good  man  in  his  dark   strivings  against   impulses  that  jar   with  his 
better  nature  may  still  be  conscious  of  the  right  way.   Mephistopheles 
answers  boldly,  "Well,  well ;  only  it  will  not  last  long.      I  am  not  at 
all  in  pain  for  my  wager.      If  I  succeed,  excuse  my  triumphing  with 
my  whole  soul."     It  is  a  wager,  then,  Faust  himself  being  the  stakes. 
Mephistopheles  is  left  free  to  act  as  he  likes.       Of  all  the  spirits  tha 


JAN.  i,  1886.]  OUR     PLAY-BOX. 


37 


deny,  the  scoffer  is  the  least  offensive  to  God.  The  concluding  words 
of  the  Deity,  addressed  to  Mephistophcles — for  the  subsequent 
language  is  evidently  spoken  as  a  benediction  to  UK  ly  Host- 

are,  "  Man's  activity  is  all  too  prone  to  slumber :  hesoon  t;'-ts  tired  of 
unconditional  repose.  I  am  therefore  glad  to  give  him  a  companion, 
who  stirs  and  works,  and  must,  as  devil,  !><•  d  Tin-  short 

characteristic  soliloquy  of  Mephistopheles,  after  the  stage-direction— 
"  Heaven  closes  ;  the  Archangels  disperse,"  is  one  of  the  stumbling- 
blocks  with  translators.     Der  Alte  is  construed  by  Shcll<-y  as  Tl. 
Fellow,  which  is  not  of  necessity  an  irreverent  expression,  or  at 
not  a  disrespectful  one.      Hayward,  whose  prose  translation  has  the 
great  advantage  of  being  done  by  a  scholarly  writer,    who  was  at  the 
time  actually  studying  German,  and  wrote  this  book,  so  valuable  to 
his  countrymen,  as  an  exercise,  renders  the  speech  of  Mephistop; 
thus  : — "  I  like  to  see  the  Ancient  One  occasionally,  and  take  care  not 
to  break  with  him.     It  is  really  civil  in  so  great  a   Lord   to  speak  so 
kindly  with  the  Devil  himself."     This  is  soon  after  the  Lord  has  told 
him,  "  I  have  never  hated  the  like  of  you." 

Now,  we  shall  see  that  while  Mephistopheles  is  given  as  a  com- 
panion to  Faust,  to  stir  and  work  and  be  doing,  to  guide  him  quietly  a 
particular  way,  and  to  keep  him  from  going  to  sleep,  he  has  no  autho- 
rity whatever  to  tyrannise  over  him.  Indeed,  he  would  be  acting  in 
violation  of  the  terms,  and  would  imperil  his  wager  if  he  did  so.  The 
mediaeval  myth,  which  so  fastened  upon  Goethe  in  his  youth  and 
strengthened  its  hold  to  the  end  of  his  long  life,  had  assigned  a  lower 
office  than  companionship  to  Mephistopheles.  He  was  to  be  Faust's 
servant,  in  the  menial  sense,  and  it  would  have  been  "  as  much  as  his 
place  was  worth"  to  bully  and  threaten  him.  May  I  venture  to  re- 
mind my  readers,  for  it  has  somewhat  surprised  me,  in  these  latter 
days  of  theatrical  criticism,  to  find  the  point  much  missed,  that 
Mephistopheles  is  not  only  a  slave,  but  a  deformed  slave,  or,  at  least, 
a  cripple,  as  rightly  represented — to  the  perplexity,  I  am  told,  of  some 
literary  gentlemen  ! — by  Mr.  Henry  Irving.  Too  much  tribute,  as  I 
take  it,  is  paid,  nowaday,  to  the  intellect  of  Mephistopheles  on  the 
stage  ;  as,  indeed,  too  much  tribute  is  paid  to  intellect  generally  in  the 
world.  "  Shall  I  boo  down,"  says  Sandy  Mackay,  the  bookseller,  in 
Kingsley's  Chartist  novel,  "  to  a  bit  o'  brain  more  than  to  a  stock  or  a 
stane  ?  "  I  wish,  sometimes,  that  we  all  had  the  rebellious  spirit  of 
Sandy.  Especially  is  this  desirable  when  the  bit  o'  brain  is  a  bit  of 
infernally  bad  brain.  We  admire  the  power  of  intellect ;  we  cannot 
help  admiring  it,  for  all  power  is  admirable,  and  the  intellectual  vil- 
lains of  Shakespeare,  so  eloquently  glorified  by  Hazlitt,  are  just 
claimants  on  the  purest  and  most  liberal  admiration.  But  we  are  often 
to  blame  for  so  persistently  ignoring  the  defects,  or  failing  to  despise 
them  with  honest  warmth.  Mephisto  denies.  Why  ?  Because  he 
is  intellectual  ?  Not  so  ;  not  quite  so.  But,  rather,  because  his  in- 
tellect is  monstrous  and  mis-shapen  ;  because  his  vision  is  distorted, 


38  THE  THEATRE.  [JAN.  i,  1886. 

and  he  sees  truth  as  deceit,  nobleness  as  villainy,  purity  as  grossness. 
Irony  has  served  the  divinest  ends.  The  most  sacred  lauguage, 
ending  to  all  good,  in  the  stern  denunciation  of  all  evil,  has  often  been 
signally  ironical.  M.  Renan,  if  my  memory  at  this  moment  does  not 
play  me  false,  has  affirmed  and  exemplified  the  proposition,  in  a  quo- 
tation of  the  Divine  Man.  But  the  irony  of  Mephistopheles  is  essen- 
tially false.  Sneers  and  jeers  go  awry  in  grotesque  determination  that 
black  shall  be  white  and  filth  virtue.  I  wonder  that  some  Coleridge 
or  De  Quincey,  or  lesser  light  of  critical  rhetoric  has  not  devoted  a 
whole  reflective  essay  to  the  Lameness  of  Mephistopheles.  There  is 
something  indefinably  terrible  in  the  super-position  of  a  human  infir- 
mity on  the  diabolic  nature.  Surely,  it  should  help  us  to  a  hint  that 
the  spirit  of  Denial  is  crippled  and  infirm  ;  that  where  the  free  power 
to  believe,  the  rational  will  to  worship,  are  absent  or  defective,  there 
is  weakness,  not  strength.  "  The  Devil  is  an  Ass,"  or  his  intellect  is 
unsound,  and  goes  hobbling  pitifully  on  a  club-foot. 

As  for  the  intellect  of  Mephistopheles,  as  the  intellect  of  lachimo, 
of  Edmund  the  Bastard,  of  Richard  the  Third,  and  of  lago,  the 
intellect  of  a  noble  nature  is  best  shown  in  frankly  admiring  its 
strength  while  strongly  resisting  its  fascination.  Thackeray,  in  refer- 
ence to  a  cruelly  intellectual  sneer,  frequently  quoted  from  lago's 
finishing  touch  to  his  mock-ideal  portrait  of  a  beatified  woman, 
finely  adds,  "But  remember,  it  was  a  villain  who  spoke  the  words. " 
lago,  one  of  Mr.  Irving's  finest  parts — I  will  say  for  myself  the  very 
finest  I  have  seen  him  play  till  the  other  evening — is,  with  the  little 
difference  oi  mortal  birth,  a  counterpart  of  Mephistopheles,  whom 
the  old  fabulists  made  lame  in  order  to  give  him  an  accidental  touch 
of  humanity.  By  making  lago  void  of  natural  compunction — "  O 
damned  lago !  O  inhuman  dog !  "  cries  poor  Roderigo,  stabbed  in  the 
dark  and  in  cold  blood — an  approximation  of  the  two  charac- 
ters is  gained.  Human  in  the  vilest  sense  is  the  limping  fiend  ; 
fiendish,  that  is  to  say  inhuman,  is  the  traitor  and  villain.  Both 
-are  curiously  alike  in  their  amused  contemplation  of  female  innocence. 
The  "  bless'd  condition  "  of  Desdemona  is,  for  lago,  a  "  bless'd  fig's- 
end";  love  he  deems  a  mere  lust  of  the  blood,  and  a  permission  of 
the  will.  Virtue  ?  Faugh !  the  wine  she  drinks  is  made  of  grapes. 
So  does  Mephistopheles  regard  Margaret.  After  telling  Faust  "it  is 
an  innocent  little  thing  that  went  to  the  confessional  for  next  to 
nothing,"  and  that  he  has  no  power  over  her,  he  promises  he  will 
minister  without  delay  to  Faust's  passion  ;  places  a  heavy  casket  in 
Margaret's  way,  and  slightingly  says  he  had  put  baubles  in  it  to  catch 
another,  but  they  are  all  alike  ;  children  are  children,  and  play  is  play, 
all  the  world  over. 

For  the  sake  of  effect,  and  to  give  Mr.  Irving  some  splendid  oppor- 
tunities, of  which  he  avails  himself  to  show  a  declamatory  power  that 
fairly  takes  the  audience  by  storm,  the  relative  positions  of  master  and 
vassal  are  reversed.  Mr.  Wills,  the  Colley  Gibber  of  Goethe's  play, 
has  flung  to  the  winds  all  the  allegiance  that  should  be  owing  to 


JAN.   i,  1886.]  OUR    PLAY-BOX.  39 

Goethe,  where  allegiance  would  have  spoiled  a  telling  situation.  The 
forcible-feeble  idea  of  making  Faust  desirous  of  wedding  Margaret  is 
the  most  glaring  English  excrescence  on  the  work.  But  when  once  i 
deemed  necessary  to  present  Faust  as  the  enslaved  captive  of 
Mephistopheles,  and  Mephistopheles  as  the  incensed  tyrannic  lord  of 
the  very  man  he  was  pledged  by  the  terms  of  a  wager  to  guide 
quietly — to  tempt,  that  is — we  must  be  prepared  for  anything.  Goethe 
has  made  the  way  plain  for  the  temptation.  His  Faust,  desirous  of 
taking  thirty  years  off  his  life,  bids  Mephistopheles  find  him  an  elixir, 
and  the  companions  resort  to  the  witches'  kitchen.  Here  Faust 
turns  against  the  vile  mess  of  cookery  in  the  chaldron,  and  asks  if 
there  is  no  other  balsam,  no  natural  mode  of  renewing  youth.  There 
is,  Mephistopheles  replies,  but  it  is  in  another  book  and  in  another 
chapter.  Faust  must  betake  himself  to  hard  peasant-occupation, 
•begin  to  hack  and  dig  in  the  field,  confine  himself  and  his  sense 
within  a  narrow  circle,  support  himself  on  simple  food,  live  with 
beasts  as  a  beast,  and  so  keep  young  to  eighty.  Of  course  Faust 
refuses  the  alternative,  and  sorcery  is  the  one  thing  left  after  all.  He 
drinks  of  the  liquor  prepared  for  him  by  the  Witch,  and  Mephisto- 
pheles hugs  himself  to  think  that  with  this  draught  in  his  body,  Faust 
will  see  a  Helen  in  every  woman  he  meets.  Henceforth  the  task  of 
Mephistopheles  is  easy.  There  is  no  need  for  domineering  on  his  part, 
or  puling  about  marriage  on  the  other. 

If  the  Lyceum  play,  the  most  notable  production,  on  the  whole, 
that  the  modern  stage  has  seen,  is  really  to  induce  a  wider  and  more 
studious  acquaintance  with  the  original  work,  it  is  vain  to  blink  the 
differences  which  will  inevitably  come  out  at  the  first  crush  of  com- 
parative criticism.  Whether  the  ingenious  adaptor  stands  excused 
or  not  for  changes  which,  though  at  open  variance  with  the  poet's 
meaning,  are  highly  effective  in  themselves,  give  scope  for  acting  such 
as  the  warmest  admirers  of  Mr.  Irving  recognise  as  a  new  manifesta- 
tion of  his  art,  and  are  overlooked  in  the  movement  of  the  play,  is 
another  question — one  into  which  I  do  not  care,  and  am  in  no  way 
called  upon,  to  enter  now.  But  there  is  one  consideration  which  in 
fairness  I  feel  bound  to  keep  before  me.  Shakespeare  wrote  designedly 
for  the  stage,  and  all  adaptations  or  material  alterations  of  his  plays 
are  therefore  to  be  regarded  as  the  work  of  more  or  less  able  but  equally 
presumptuous  meddlers.  Goethe,  on  the  other  hand,  could  have  had  no 
expectation  of  seeing  his  great  dramatic  poem  presented  unchanged  as  an 
actual  drama.  The  many  shapes  in  which  it  has  been  brought  upon  the 
stage  have  all  varied  from  one  another  as  much,  perhaps,  as  this 
latest  and  most  carefully  elaborated  version  varies  in  comparison  with 
the  original.  Evary  German  company,  almost  every  German  actor 
of  eminence  entitling  him  to  the  deference  of  managers,  has  had  a 
special  and  peculiar  acting-copy.  Mr.  H.  Schiitz  Wilson,  whose 
valuable  essay  on  "Faust,"  one  of  his  most  instructive  "Studies  in 
History,  Legend,  and  Literature,"  is  now  much  before  the  reading 
public  has  found  no  room  for  analysing  and  comparing  the  several 


40  THE    THEATRE.  [JAN.  i,  1886, 

stage  editions  he  must  have  seen  in  representation  by  German  as  well 
as  English  and  other  European  actors.  My  own  experience  comes 
far  short  of  his.  Devrient,  Charles  Keah,  and  an  obscure  French 
provincial  actor,  whose  name  I  can  hardly  say  I  forget,  never  having 
remembered  it  even  for  a  day,  are  the  only  Mephistos  within  my 
personal  ken,  except,  of  course,  in  opera.  But  I  have  a  suspicion 
that  one  patent  and  absurd  anomaly  is  common  to  all  the  stage  ver- 
sions of  "  Faust,"  though  it  struck  me  more  in  the  Lyceum  version 
than  it  ever  did  previously.  This  may  have  been,  and  I  think  it  was, 
by  force  of  the  very-perfection  of  acting  which  so  emphasised  the  contra- 
diction. Mephistopheles  has  received,  by  the  conditions  of  his  wager  irr 
Heaven,  an  implied  dispensation  from  the  pains  and  penalties  of  contact 
with  all  forms  of  holiness.  He  could  not  otherwise  have  entered  a  church 
and  been  present  during  mass.  Yet  he  shudders  and  stops  his  ears  at 
the  sound  of  consecrated  bells,  can  only  crouch  and  slink  past  the 
image  of  the  Virgin,  and  retreats  like  a  beaten  hound  from  Gretchen's 
crucifix.  This  is  all  very  effective  in  representation,  but  like  doubtfu) 
wine,  it  effects  the  head  next  day,  especially  when  the  head  is  a 
thinking  head,  and  recalls  a  faint  over-night  suspicion  of  blending,  or 
other  indirection^  the  liquor.  Mephistopheles  cowed  by  a  rosary, 
or  a  peal  of  bells  !  Why,  he  had  entered  heaven  itself,  undaunted 
and  unrebuked  ! 

Of  the  acting  at  the  Lyceum,  which  has  received  its  due  from  more 
practised  critics,  I  had  not  purposed  to  say  anything  here.  I  might, 
indeed,  have  spoken  more  at  length  of  the  pictures  which  our  "  poet 
manager,"  as  Mr.  Irving  has  been  aptly  called,  sets  with  practical 
poetry — and  when  is  true  poetry  not  practical  ? — upon  the  stage.  It 
must  suffice,  however,  to  deal  in  generalities  regarding  the  sceneryy 
which  cannot  be  praised  in  any  just  proportion  to  its  merits,  for  the 
simple  reason  that  its  perfection  is  carried  to  a  minuteness  of  accurate 
detail  which  transcends  the  power  and  means  of  adequate  observation^ 
May-day  Night  on  the  Hartz  Mountains  is  celebrated  with  a  weird- 
ness  and  terror,  at  once  vague  and  vivid,  which  approach  as  nearly 
the  oppressive  delirium  of  nightmare  as  any  lover  of  the  supernatural 
could  wish.  Shelley,  who  had  a  childish  longing  to  see  a  ghost,  and 
actually  sought  for  apparitions  in  gaunt,  worm-eaten  old  corridors,, 
could  not  have  conceived  any  such  realisation  of  his  morbid  yearning 
as  this  wonderful  scene.  The  poet  of  metaphysics,  who  had  trans^ 
lated  Goethe's  episode,  as  well  as  the  Prologue  in  Heaven,  found 
nothing,  it  is  true,  precisely  accordant  with  the  scenic  awe  of  the  wild 
witch-festival  as  here  presented.  The  original  scene  in  the  district 
of  Schirke  and  Elend  is  another,  and,  perhaps,  the  most  conspicuous- 
example  of  thoroughly  dramatic  and  as  thoroughly  unpresentable 
action  in  the  mighty  poem.  Round  the  Brocken  or  Blocksberg,  the 
highest  summit  of  the  Hartz  chain,  converge  all  the  wildest  of  the 
German  superstitions.  As  Olympus  was  to  the  Greeks,  as  Siriai  to 
the  Jews,  as  Montserrat  to  the  Spaniards,  as  the  Himalaya  Mountains. 
to  the  tribes  of  India,  so  is  the  Blocksberg  to  the  Germans.  All  ths 


JAN.  i,  1886.]  OUR    PL  AY -BOX.  4I 

grim  levities  of  Teutonic  genius,  even  satire  and  ridicule,  mount  up  to 
this  airy  height.  One  of  the  many  personages  necessarily  elimi: 
from  the  Lyceum  picture  is  Procktophantasmist,  under  which  name 
Goethe  satirised  the  Arch-Philistine,  Nicolai,  of  Berlin,  the  cold 
prosaic  severity  of  whose  criticisms  made  him  obnoxious  ah 
Fichte,  Wieland,  Herder,  and  Lavater,  while  his  offence  to  Goethe 
was  doubled  and  trebled  by  a  not  very  brilliant  parody  on  u 
Sorrows  of  Werther,"  which  was  entitled  "The  Joys  of  Werther." 
Instead  of  showing  any  mortification  at  the  time,  Goethe  good- 
humouredly  continued  the  joke  by  capping  the  parodist's  rather  bald 
climax,  and  making  fun  of  his  fun.  But  Goethe  nursed  his  vengeance  '» 
and  Procktophantasmist,  who  appears  in  the  witches'  dance,  and 
lectures  the  dancers  on  the  glaring  solecism  of  their  steps,  is  the 
notable  result.  I  have  said  it  was  not  my  purpose,  like  poor  Prock- 
tophantasmist, to  criticise  the  acting  in  Mr.  Irving's  magnificent  stage- 
study.  Nor  is  it.  I  only  bear  my  humble  and  willing  testimony  to  the 
effect  which  that  acting  had  upon  me.  Miss  Terry,  with  those 
"tears  in  her  voice,"  which  often  tremble  with  the  sympathy  of 
inspiration  in  her  eyes  also,  could  not  but  excel  in  a  character 
so  suitable  to  her  pathos  and  her  richness  of  simplicity.  Of  Mr. 
Irving  I  have  already  endeavoured  to  intimate,  though  I  have  come 
far  short  of  expressing,  my  almost  unqualified  admiration.  There 
cannot  possibly,  to  my  thinking,  be  a  better  Mephistopheles.  For 
the  love  I  bear  Mrs.  Stirling,  whom  I  remember  further  back  than  she 
will  believe — when,  indeed,  she  played  the  village  coquette,  Gwynncth 
Vaughan,  at  the  Olympic— I  could  wish,  now,  that  Neighbour 
Martha  were  somewhat  nearer  that  time  of  life  into  which,  on  the 
stage,  Mrs.  Stirling's  order  of  characterisation  has  becomingly 
entered.  Candidly,  Martha  is  but  of  the  middle-aged  matronly  state 
and  period — fat,  fair,  and,  say,  forty.  Mr.  Conway's  Faust  pleased  me 
more  on  the  first  night  than  his  representation  seems  to  have  pleased 
everybody.  The  honest  and  legitimate  success  of  Mr.  George 
Alexander  as  Valentine  is  fair  ground  for  such  congratulation  as, 
considering  the  smallness  of  the  part,  would  appear  impertinent  if 
carried  to  the  bounds  of  high  praise.  Yet  the  highest  praise,  I  think, 
would  not  be  too  high.  The  presence  of  Mr.  Howe,  who  wears  the 
handsomest  dress  handsomely,  and  adds  importance  to  every  picture 
in  which  he  figures,  is  the  last  note  I  have  to  make,  though  there  is 
not  a  minor  character  that  is  inadequately  sustained. 

Though  Goethe  did  not  design  his  work  for  the  stage,  he  m- 
expressed  any  unwillingness  that  it  should  be  adapted  to  the  purpose 
of  acting.  The  task  was  accomplished  first  by  Tieck,  whose  version 
was  produced  simultaneously  at  Dresden  and  Leipsig,  to  celebrate 
Goethe's  eightieth  birthday.  This  was  on  August  28,  1829,  and 
much  literary  discussion  arose  therefrom,  Schlegel,  in  his  Fifteenth 
Lecture,  authoritatively  settling  the  dispute  by  an  ex  catfodrd  decision 
that  the  poem  was  unfit  for  representation  at  all.  Goethe  himself 
made  no  sign  ;  but  he  had  positively  approved  the  use  of  his  work 


42  THE    THEATRE.  QAN,  x.  1886. 

for  musical  composition,  both  by  Prince  Radzivil  and  Zelter.  Cole- 
ridge criticised  the  poem  as  inconsistent,  and  as  lacking  causation 
and  progression.  The  scenes  he  considered  mere  magic  lantern 
pictures.  Yet  he  at  least  took  into  consideration  the  possibility  of 
connecting  them  as  a  dramatic  whole. 

GODFREY  TURNER. 


"THE  HARBOUR  LIGHTS." 

A  new  and  original  drama,  in  Five  Acts,  by  GEO.  R.  SIMS  and  HENRY  PETTITT. 
Produced  at  the  Adelphi  Theatre,  on  Wednesday,  December  23,  1885. 


David  Kingsley 
Frank  Morland 
Nicholas  Morland  ... 
Capt.  Nelson    
Capt.  Hardy,  R.N.... 
MarkHelstone  
Tom  Dossiter  
Jack  Lirriper  

.    MR.  WILLIAM  TERRISS 
.    MR.  PERCY  LYNDAL. 
MR.  J.  D.  BEVERIDGE. 
.    MR.  JOHN*  MACLEAN. 
.    MR.  HOWARD  RUSSELL. 
.    MR.  DUNCAN  CAMPBELL. 
.    MR.  E.  W.  GARDEN. 
MR.  E.  DAGNALL. 

Solomon    
Lieut.  Wynyard,  R 
Dora  Vane 
Lina  Nelson     ... 
Mrs.  Chudleigh 
Peggv  Chudleigh 
Mrs.  Helstone  ... 
Bridget  Maloney 
Polly 

MR.  E.  TRAVERS. 
.N.  ...    MR.  H.  WYATT. 
Miss  MILL  WARD. 
Miss  MARY  RORKE. 
MRS.  H.  LEIGH. 
Miss  KATE  FAYNE. 
Miss  MAUDE  BRENNAM. 
MRS.  JOHN  CARTER. 
Miss  J.  ROGERS. 

Will  Drake       MR.  T.  FULL.IAMES. 
Dick  Hockadav                .    MR.  G.  WENTWORTH. 

Fisherwoman  ...              ,    Miss  L  NELSON. 

This  is  decidedly  one  of  the  best  and  most  effective  plays  that  has  been 
produced  at  the  Adelphi  in  recent  years.  The  story  is  interesting,  and 
abounding  in  touches  of  human  nature,  both  pathetic  and  humorous, 
while  the  construction  is  singularly  neat  and  ingenious.  The  scene  on 
the  deck  of  H.M.S.  Britannic  is  as  lively  and  stirring  a  picture  as  need 
be,  while  the  rescue  of  the  heroine  is  as  powerful  a  dramatic  situation  as 
any  in  modern  melodrama.  "  The  Harbour  Lights,"  in  fact,  is  all  that 
an  Adelphi  melodrama  should  be — a  strong,  touching  play,  excellently 
placed  on  the  stage,  and  admirably  acted.  The  outline  of  the  story  is  as 
follows  : — The  first  act  opens  at  Redcliffe-on-the-Sea,  where  lads  and 
lasses,  mothers,  wives,  and  sweethearts  are  on  the  look-out  for  the  boats 
which  are  hourly  expected  to  bring  ashore  the  crew  of  H.M.S.  "Britannic.' 
One  of  the  girls  who  is  looking  out  for  her  lover  is  Dora  Vane,  the  adopted 
daughter  of  a  retired  officer,  Captain  Nelson.  She  and  young  Lieutenant 
Kingsley  were  boy  and  girl  together,  and  the  pair  have  been  separated 
for  two  years.  She  is  more  than  usually  lonely  to-day,  for  Lina  Nelson, 
her  sister  in  all  but  name,  has  been  spirited  away  to  London,  ostensibly 
as  a  governess,  but  in  reality  she  has  been  betrayed  and  deserted  by  the 
gay  young  squire,  Frank  Morland,  a  gambler  and  reckless  spendthrift. 
Morland  is  on  his  last  legs,  he  knows  not  where  to  turn  for  money,  until, 
learning  that  Dora  Vane  is  the  heiress  to  twenty  thousand  pounds,  he 
determines  to  marry  her,  and  have  her  money  by  fair  means  or  foul.  His 
plans  are,  however,  frustrated  by  the  arrival  of  David  Kingsley,  who 
promptly  comes  to  the  point  with  Dora,  proposes  to  her,  and  is  accepted, 
so  that  when  Frank  Morland  asks  for  her  hand  he  finds  himself  late  in 
the  field,  and  his  suit  is  consequently  rejected.  The  second  act  takes  us 
to  the  interior  of  Nelson's  cottage,  where  Lina  returns,  determined  to 
demand  and  obtain  reparation  from  Squire  Morland  or  to  end  her  life, 
and  for  the  latter  purpose  she  secretes  in  her  dress  a  loaded  pistol.  Her 
father  has  gone  to  London  in  search  of  her,  and  when  Dora  learns  that 
Lina  has  gone  to  the  Hall  at  night  to  endeavour  to  see  Morland,  she 
resolves  to  follow  her.  This  falls  out  well  with  Morland's  plans,  for  he 


JAN.  i,  1886.]  OUR     PLAY-BOX.  43 

has  contrived  to  send  his  servants  away  in  the  night  in  the  hope  of  having. 
by  means  of  an  artfully-worded  note,  Dora  Vane  alone  in  the  house  with 
him.  The  second  scene  of  this  act  takes  place  at  the  Hall,  where  I.in.i 
Nelson  arrives,  and,  meeting  with  only  hard  words  from  the  man  who  had 
wronged  her,  attempts  to  fire  the  pistol,  but  this  attempt  is  frustrat 
Morland,  who  snatches  the  weapon  from  her,  and  places  it  on  a  table  by 
the  window.  Just  at  this  moment  Mark  Helstone,  a  sea-faring  man,  who 
had  gone  to  the  bad  through  losing  Lina  Nelson,  and  had  sworn  to  kill 
her  seducer,  is  seen  in  the  garden.  The  Squire  forces  Lina  into  a  room, 
and  Helstone  enters  and  demands  to  know  who  was  with  him.  Morland 
denies  that  it  was  Lina  Nelson,  and  as  Dora  Vane  arrives  at  that  moment 
he  says  that  she  was  the  woman,  and  so  Helstone  is  apparently 
satisfied  at  the  explanation,  and  goes  away,  to  return,  however,  and  hide 
himself  behind  a  curtain.  A  powerful  scene  then  occurs  between  Morland 
and  Dora,  in  which  the  former  declares  his  passion  for  the  girl,  and  avers 
that  she  shall  not  leave  his  house  that  night.  Just  in  the  nick  of  time 
Kingsley  rushes  in,  saves  Dora,  and  carries  her  off.  Mark  Helstone,  who 
has  then  learned  that  Morland  was  Lina's  betrayer,  shoots  him  dead. 
One  scoundrel  being  thus  put  out  of  the  way,  a  prominent  place  is  given 
to  another,  the  late  squire's  cousin,  Nicholas  Morland,  who  hates 
Kingsley,  and  seeks  to  disgrace  him.  He  causes  a  warrant  to  be  issued 
for  his  arrest  on  the  charge  of  murder — for  it  is  known  that  Kingsley  was 
at  the  Hall  on  the  night  of  the  crime — and,  as  he  finds  out  that  the 
murder  was  committed  by  Helstone,  he  bribes  the  unfortunate  man  to 
leave  the  country  in  order  that  there  may  be  no  evidence  in  Kingsley's 
favour.  The  warrant,  however,  does  not  arrive  in  time,  for  Lieutenant 
Kingsley  has  been  suddenly  ordered  away  with  his  ship  on  active  service. 
Nevertheless,  Nicholas  Morland  determines  to  hunt  Kingsley  down,  so 
he  pursues  him  to  the  deck  of  the  "Britannic" — and  there  sneers  at  him 
for  having  married  a  woman  whom  he  falsely  says  is  dishonoured,  and 
also  makes  the  accusation  of  the  murder.  Kingsley,  naturally  maddened 
at  such  a  charge,  and  at  the  idea  of  leaving  his  newly-married  wife  at  the 
mercy  of  such  a  wretch  as  Morland,  begs  in  vain  for  leave  of  absence, 
when,  as  the  signal  for  clearing  the  ship  of  strangers  is  sounded,  an  order 
to  a  home  appointment  arrives,  and  he  is  free  to  stay  on  shore  and  protect 
his  wife.  In  the  fourth  act  we  are  shown  the  interior  of  Helstone's 
cottage,  whither  Mark  has  borne  Lina  after  the  terrible  scene  at  the  Hall, 
and  where  she  has  lain  delirious  for  some  hours,  and  has  stated  in  her 
ravings  that  it  was  she  who  shot  the  Squire.  Helstone's  mother,  enraged 
at  the  wreck  which  the  girl  has  made  of  her  son's  life,  informs  the  police 
that  Lina  is  the  murderess.  Helstone  hears  of  this,  and  endeavours  to 
take  Lina  away,  but  Kingsley  appears  and  prevents  this.  Then  occurs 
the  great  scene  of  the  play.  Lina,  in  endeavouring  to  escape,  has  fallen 
from  an  under-path  of  the  cliff  on  to  the  rock  below,  and  is  in  imminent 
danger  of  being  washed  away.  Kingsley  determines  to  save  her,  and 
descends  the  cliff.  We  see  him  at  the  commencement  of  his  perilous 
descent,  and  then,  by  a  clever  mechanical  change,  we  see  him  descending 
to  the  rocks,  and  ultimately  reaching  Lina.  But  more  troubles  are  in 


44 


THE     THEATRE. 


[JAN,    I.    1886. 


store  for  Kingsley  and  Lina,  as  the  tide  is  rapidly  rising,  and  there 
appears  to  be  no  hope  of  their  being  saved,  when  up  comes  the  lifeboat, 
and  a  very  powerful  and  effective  scene  is  brought  to  a  capital  climax. 
The  last  act,  of  course,  is  devoted  to  clearing  the  charge  against  Kingsley 
and  his  wife,  while  the  villain,  Morland,  is  proved  to  have  been  an  acces- 
sory after  the  fact  to  the  murder  of  his  cousin,  and  the  drama  ends  in 
honest  fashion  with  virtue  rewarded  and  villainy  properly  punished. 

There  never  was  a  better  hero  for  this  kind  of  play  than  Mr.  Terriss, 
who  looks  the  handsome  young  lieutenant  to  the  life,  and  is  always  active, 
easy,  and  vigorous.  The  two  heroines  are  agreeably  impersonated  by 
Miss  Mary  Rorke  and  Miss  Millward,  while  Mr.  J.  D.  Beveridge  smiles 
as  complacently  as  ever  through  his  part  as  first  villain.  A  hit  is  made 
by  a  new  comer  to  the  Adelphi,  Mr.  Percy  Lyndal,  who  acts  the  scene 
between  Frank  Morland  and  Lina  Nelson  at  the  Hall  with  warmth  and 
extreme  naturalness,  uncommon  qualities  in  a  young  actor.  That  excel- 
lent comedian,  Mr.  E.  W.  Garden,  has  a  congenial  part,  and  Miss  Kate 
Fayne  makes  a  merry  soubrette. 


"  LITTLE     JACK     SHEPPARD." 

A  new  three-act  "burlesque-operatic-melodrama,"  by  H.  P.  STEPHEN'S  and  W.  YARDLEY. 
Produced  at  the  Gaiety  Theatre  on  Saturday,  December  26, 1885. 


Jack  Sheppard  Miss  E.  FARREX 

Thames  Darrell Miss  WADMAN 

Blueskin  MR.  DAVID  JAMES 

Jonathan  Wild  MR.  FRKD.  LtsuK 

Sir  Rowland  Trenchard  MR.  ODELL 

Abraham  Mendez MR.  F.  WOOD 

Mr.  Kneebone MR.  W.  WARDS 

Mr.  Wood MR.  GUISR 

Captain  Cuff   Miss  EMILY  DUNCAN 

Shotbolt  Miss  Ross 


Marvel Miss  RAINES 

Ireton Miss  ROBINA 

Quilt  Arnold Miss  HANDLEY 

Little  Gog Miss  PEAUCE 

Little  Magog Miss  TYLER 

Mrs.  Sheppard Miss  HARRIET  COVKXEY 

Winifred  Wood Miss  MARION  HOOD 

Edgworth  Bess Miss  BESSIE  JSANSEN 

Polly  Stanmore    Miss  SYLVIA  GREY 

Kitty  Kettleby Miss  EUNICE 


There  are,  doubtless,  people  who  like  to  take  their  burlesque  in  smaller 
doses  than  those  administered  at  the  Gaiety  Theatre,  but  if  we  are  to  have 
a  three-ounce  mixture  instead  of  a  draught,  there  can  be  no  question  of 
the  exhilarating  and  stimulating  qualities  of  that  prescribed  by  those 
skilful  practitioners,  Messrs.  Stephens  and  Yardley.  To  abandon  medical 
metaphor  it  must  be  said  that  the  new  three-act  *'  Burlesque-operatic- 
melodrama  "  (what  will  a  play  be  called  next  ?)  is  a  very  bright  and  amusing 
production,  a  welcome  return  to  the  best  traditions  of  the  Gaiety  Theatre. 
It  is  well  constructed,  and  the  songs  are  particularly  good,  while  the  puns 
would  have  driven  Dr.  Johnson  out  of  his  mind.  We  know  that  the  great 
man  had  a  "  general  aversion  to  puns,"  possibly  because  the  only  one  he 
is  recorded  to  have  made  was,  perhaps,  the  worst  ever  perpetrated,  but 
the  authors  may  shelter  themselves  behind  Boswell's  remark  that  "  a  good 
pun  may  be  admitted  among  the  smaller  excellencies  of  lively  conversa- 
tion." Had  he  lived  to  see  burlesques  he  would  have  added  that  puns 
were  as  sauce  piquante  to  such  productions.  Very  ingenious,  too,  is  what 
may  be  called  the  scenic  travesty  of  popular  melodrama.  Here,  we  have 
the  escape  of  Jack  Sheppard  and  Blueskin  from  prison,  conducted  much 
after  the  fashion  of  an  Adelphi  play  with  quick  changes  of  scenery  and 
all  the  elements  of  sensation,  reproduced  after  a  true  burlesque  fashion. 


JAN.  i,  i886.]  OUR     PLAY-BOX 


45 


There  is  no  need  to  tell  in  detail  how  far  Messrs.  Stephens  and  Yardley 
have  followed  the  traditional  story  of  Jack  Sheppard.     Suffice  it  to  say 
that  we  see  the  adventurous  hero  making  love,  and  accompanied  by  the 
faithful  Blueskin  rescuing  Thames  Darrell  from  the  clutches  of  Mr.  Jona- 
than Oscar  Wild  and  Sir  Rowland  Trenchard.     We  find  him  at  one  time 
assisting  at  a  "  free-and-easy,"  over  which   Blueskin  presides,  and  then 
imprisoned  in  Newgate,  where  he  conducts  himself  in  his  usual  dare-devil 
manner,  and,   of  course,  escapes   in  the  fashion  above  indicated,  the 
burlesque  ending  with  his  happy  marriage.     The  first  act  is  particularly 
bright  and  pretty,  the  second  drags  a  little,  and  compression  will  doubt- 
less improve  it,  while   the  third  also  needs  a   little  judicious  putting 
together.     The  burlesque,  however,  now  plays  closer  than  it  did  on  the 
first  night,  and  is  a  really  capital  piece  of  extravagance.     The  cast  is  the 
best  that  has  been  seen  in  burlesque  for  many  years.     To  take  the  ladies 
first,  rapturous  cheers  welcomed  Miss  Farren  back  to  the  scene  of  her  old 
triumphs,  and  the  brightest  burlesque  actress  on  the  stage  of  to-day  never 
played  with  more  spirit.     Her  principal  song,  "  Jack's  alive,  'O,"  a  very 
characteristic  ditty,  with  a  capital  melody  by  Mr.   Meyer  Liitz,   won  an 
enthusiastic  encore.     Miss  Marion  Hood  looked  charming,  and  sang  with 
infinite  taste  and  feeling,  her  best  contribution   being  a  pretty  song  by 
Florian  Pascal,  "  They  call  me  the  Belle  of  Dollis  Hill."    Miss  Wadman's 
singing  is  also  far  above  the  average  of  that, usually  heard  in  burlesque, 
and  she  gave  "  There  once  was  a  time,  my  darling,"  admirably  set  bv  Mr. 
Alfred  Cellier,  with  excellent  effect.    These  two  ladies  were  also  heard  to 
much  advantage  in  a  fanciful  and  charming  duet,  by  Mr.  Hamilton  Clarke, 
entitled,  "A  Fairy  Tale."  Time  stands  still  with  Miss  Harriet  Coveney,  who 
growsyounger,  instead  of  older,  each  year,  and  she  acted  with  much  humour 
and  vivacity.      Misses  Emily  Duncan,  Sansen,  Eunice,  and  Sylvia  Grey 
had  little  to  do  but  look  pretty,  and  accomplished  that  task  without  effort, 
the  latter   lady  also   dancing  remarkably  well.     Mr.  David  James,  after 
ten  years  of  comedy,  returns  in  this  piece  to  his  first  love,  burlesque,  and 
is  a  very  humorous  Blueskin,  giving  us  a  genuine  character  sketch,  and 
his  singing  of  the  old  song,  "Farewell  to  Old  England,"   was  received 
with  uproarious  applause.     Mr.  Fred  Leslie  is  an  artist,  and  his  concep- 
tion of  Jonathan  Wild  is  grotesque  and  comic  in  the  extreme.     Two 
bits  of  business,  his  cooling  himself  with  a  pinch  of  theatrical  snow 
scattered  over  him,  from  a  snuffbox,  and  his  cracking  his  fingers  in  a 
perfectly  appalling  fashion,  caused  much  mirth  among  the  audience.     A 
funny  "  Polyglot  Duet,"  by  Mr.  Meyer  Liitz,  sung  with  Miss  Farren,  was 
loudly  encored.     Mr.   Odell,1  capitally  made  up,   was  a  highly  effective 
representative  of  Sir  Rowland  Trenchard,  and  minor  parts  were  well  filled. 
Besides  the  composers  mentioned,  Messrs.  CorneyjGrain,  Arthur  Cecil, 
Michael  Watson,  and  H.  T.  Leslie  have  supplied  original  music,  and  the 
songs  and  concerted  pieces  are  throughout  bright  and  tuneful.      The 
dresses,  designed  by  Mr.  Chasemore,  are  the  most  artistic  that  have  been 
seen  in  burlesque  for  some  time,  and  the  scenery  must  also  be  commended. 
The    chorus    consisted  of    shapely  young  lidies,  who    had    been  well 
drilled — I  believe,  under  the  eagle  eye  of  Mr.  R.   Barker — and  the  piece 


46  THE     THEATRE.  [JAN.  i,  1886. 

had  evidently  been  properly  rehearsed.  Encores  and  applause  were  the 
order  of  the  day,  and  all  the  principals  were  recalled  at  the  fall  of  the 
curtain,  a  similar  compliment  being  paid  to  the  authors.  This  notice 
may  possibly  seem  unduly  laudatory  to  those  who  do  not  like  three-act 
burlesques,  and,  personally,  I  had  much  rather  see  them  in  one  myself. 
But,  if  such  pieces  are  to  be  written  at  all,  they  are  worth  writing  well, 
and  it  is  because  Messrs.  Stephens  and  Yardley  have  here  shown  them- 
selves masters  of  this  particular  form  of  stage-craft,  that  I  am  heartily 
glad  to  be  able  to  indulge  in  what  Mr.  Swinburne  calls  "  the  noble 
pleasure  of  praising." 

H.  SAVILE  CLARKE. 


©ur  ©mntbus^Boy. 


Several  circumstances  combined  to  make  the  dramatic  year  which 
has  just  passed  away  a  period  of  anxiety  to  the  managerial  mind. 
Depression  in  trade  means  eventually  a  paralysis  of  amusement. 
When  "times  are  bad  "  and  dividends  are  low  there  must  inevitably 
be  a  scarcity  of  money,  and  paterfamilias,  whose  balance  at  the  bank 
is  getting  low,  must  think  twice  or  thrice  before  be  encounters  without 
distrust  the  formidable  expense  of  an  evening  at  the  play.  However 
much  people  may  differ  in  opinion  as  to  the  character  and  value  of 
modern  theatrical  entertainments  as  compared  with  the  old,  one  thing 
is  quite  certain,  and  that  is  they  are  not  so  reasonable.  A  half-guinea 
stall  may  be  justified  when  some  extraordinary  star  is  announced, 
when  the  management  has  been  put  to  some  inordinate  expense,  or 
when  there  is  a  rush  to  see  some  particular  play  ;  but  it  is  an  open 
question  whether  for  the  majority  of  entertainments  given  nowadays 
in  London  it  would  not  be  more  judicious  to  charge  lower  prices,  and 
secure  in  the  long  run  better  houses.  In  the  old  days,  no  doubt,  a  visit 
to  the  play  was  an  event  in  the  domestic  circle.  The  dinner  hour 
was  earlier  than  it  is  now,  but  for  all  that  the  routine  of  daily  life  was 
cheerfully  disturbed  for  the  sake  of  the  intending  playgoer.  Clubs  were 
not  so  numerous,  and  a  chop  in  the  city  was  a  delightful  prelude  to 
the  play,  followed  by  a  supper  afterwards  at  some  recognised  theatrical 
tavern.  We  do  not  dispute  the  existence  of  the  same  kind  of  enthu- 
siasm at  the  present  day.  Dinner  hours  are  still  disturbed  and 
domestic  arrangements  altered  at  the  will  and  command  of  theatrical 
enthusiasts  ;  but,  as  a  rule,  unless  the  popularity  of  a  new  play  is 
something  phenomenal,  and  it  becomes  a  duty  to  society  to  see  that 
which  is  everywhere  discussed,  the  manager  has  more  frequently  to 
yield  to  the  public  than  the  public  bend  to  the  manager,  for  the  modern 
playgoer  is  a  luxurious  person.  He  must  dine,  and  dine  well,  before 
he  visits  the  play-house ;  he  must  dress,  and  dress  well,  when  he  i? 
seen  there  ;  all  of  which  luxuries  entail  considerable  expense,  so  that 
it  may  be  roughly  calculated  one  might  visit  half-a-dozen  plays  in  the 


JAN.  i,  1886.]  OUR  OMNIBUS-BOX. 


47 


old   times  for   the  expense  detailed  by  one  night's  theatre-going  as 
matters  stand  at  the  present  time.     In  some  quarters  it  is  maintained, 
and  stoutly  maintained,  that   the  success  of  outdoor  amusements  in 
the    summer    season,    particularly   the   beautiful   garden    at    South 
Kennngton,  where  music  and  smoking  are  pleasantly  combined,  have 
a  serious  effect  upon  the  receipts  of  the  London  theatres.      But  we 
believe  such  theories  to  be  pushed  too  far,  and  to  be   on  the   whole 
exaggerated.     It  should  never  be  forgotten  that  the  valuable  exhibi- 
tion at  South  Kensington  brings  foreigners  and  provincial  visitors  to 
town.     Country  cousins  are  not  at  South  Kensington  every   night 
They  do  wonders,  no  doubt,  in  a  very  short  space  of  time.     They  are 
in  Westminster  Abbey  at  one  minute  and  the  Tower  the  next.     They 
rush  from  Trafalgar  Square  to  Bethnal  Green.     As  a  rule,  they   see 
more  in  a  week  than  a  Londoner  does  in  a  year.      But,    for  all  that, 
they  are  not  likely  to  leave  London — Healtheries  and  Inventories  apart 
— without  taking  home  some  account  of  the  play  of  the  hour.     Who 
would  dare  go  back  to  the  provinces  and  boldly  own  that  he  had  never 
seen  "The  Private  Secretary"?     What  young  lady  would  dare  face 
society  at  the  rectory  or  the  hall  who   was  not  familiar  with  "  The 
Mikado  "?     The  hottest  weather  and  the  fiercest  opposition   never 
keep  people  away  from  plays   they,  to  use  a  common  phrase,   "  are 
bound  to  see." 


But  the  dramatic  year,  whose  life  is  just  over,  suffered  from  one 
exceptional  difficulty  more  grave  than  any  of  these.  We  have  only 
just  got  through  a  stormy  period  of  political  and  electioneering  ex- 
citement. An]  election  that  is  positively  disastrous  in  its  effects  on 
the  exchequer  of  provincial  theatres  is  at  the  same  time  pretty  severely 
felt  in  London  also.  People  cannot  be  in  two  places  at  once,  and  if 
they  are  applauding  or  hissing  the  rival  candidates  in  the  district 
school-room  they  cannot  possibly  be  laughing  with  Mr.  Toole  or  Mr. 
Wyndham  in  another.  The  year  opened  without  much  promise,  but 
it  has  ended  injwhat  looks  like  a  pleasant  reaction.  Mr.  Henry  Irving, 
with  the  Lyceum  company,  was  away  at  the  beginning  of  the  year, 
terminating  his  second  successful  season  in  America.  Before  the 
summer  was  over  London  had  lost  the  valuable  managerial  services, 
experience,  and  influence  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft,  who,  without 
positively  declaring  they  intended  retiring  from  the  stage,  definitely 
gave  up  the  care  of  the  Haymarket  Theatre  to  other  hands,  and  with- 
drew their  names,;after  a  long  and  interesting  career,  from  the  list  of 
London  managers.  We  have  repeatedly  urged  that  the  most  suc- 
cessful theatrical  manager  is  one  who  does  not  dictate  to  the  public 
the  kind  of  entertainment,  but  carefully  gauges  public  taste  and 
opinion.  He  must  watch  ".by  the  straw  the  way  the  wind  blows,  and 
must  remember  that  ihe  dramatic  breezes  are  uncommonly  shifty.  At 
one  time  realistic  plays  are  the  rage  ;  then  they  have  to  yield  in  turn 
to  romantic  drama.  Farcical  comedies  go  down  at  one  time  ;  whilst 
at  another  the  fickle  'public  will  have  nothing  but  opera  bouffe  and 
burlesque.  The  astonishing  circumstance  is  that  the  spread  of  edu- 


48  THE    THEATRE.  [JAN.  i,  isse. 

cation  has  as  yet  made  no  perceptible  difference  in  the  general 
character  of  our  dramatic  entertainments.  They  are  neither  healthier 
nor  better  as  a  rule  than  they  used  to  be.  The  stage  has  not  gained  in 
dignity,  refinement,  or  culture  since  [the  passing  of  the  Education 
Act,  or  since  the  fever  for  higher  education  has  spread  in  the  middle 
classes.  In  fact,  it  might,  without  much  rashness,  be  argued  that  the 
tendency  is  wholly  in  the  other  direction.  It  may  be  that  the  cheap- 
ness of  literature,  the  easy  access  to  good  books,  and  the  improved 
character  of  modern  journalism  have  checked  the  educating  influence 
of  the  stage.  The  practical  man  will  urge  that  there  is  no  need  for 
him  to  pay  to  listen  to  that  which  he  can  buy  to  read  at  a  much 
cheaper  figure.  But  certain  it  is  that  the  last  thing  the  average  play- 
goer wants  to  do  when  he  goes  to  the  play  is  to  think  or  even  be  in- 
duced to  think.  He  wants  to  be  amused  and  only  amused.  He  desires 
to  laugh  and  not  to  cry.  He  maintains  that  the  world  is  sad  enough 
outside  the  theatre,  and  human  nature  sufficiently  cruel  in  all  our 
daily  walks  of  life  without  contemplating  them  anew  at  the  extravagant 
cost  of  ten  shillings  a  stall.  It  is  a  practical  not  a  sentimental  age. 
Thus  it  is  that  panoramic  plays,  combinations  of  scenic  and  pictorial 
effects,  mechanical  changes  and  so-called  realistic  views  of  popular 
places,  share  the  public  ear  with  rough-and-tumble  farces  and  ill-dis- 
guised pantomime  that  are  received  with  shrieks  of  delight.  The  staid 
and  decorous  Court  Theatre,  that  for  years  attracted  the  public  by 
homely  pictures  of  English  life  or  modern  manner,  and  with  plays 
where  occasional  pathetic  touches  gave  relief  to  a  stream  of  comedy, 
has  now  gone  over  to  rattling  and  rollicking  farce.  Mr.  Pinero,  weary 
in  his  endeavour  to  get  the  "  scent  of  the  hay  over  the  footlights,"  has 
given  his  ready  and  clever  pen  to  the  lovers  of  farcical  extravagance. 
Mr.  John  Clayton  suffers  no  more  as  a  misunderstood  man,  but 
reddens  his  nose  and  rends  his  garments  in  the  service  of  hilarity  ; 
whilst  the  spruce  and  dapper  Arthur  Cecil  is  no  more  the  elderly  beau 
or  fastidious  old  rake  of  modern  comedy,  but  a  dishevelled  and  torn 
old  gentleman  who  gets  under  the  table  at  a  restaurant,  and  takes  his 
seat  on  the  bench,  broken  and  bleeding,  as  a  London  magistrate. 

The  efforts  to  check  the  tide  of  boisterous  humour  have  not,  so  far, 
been  successful.  Shakespeare  was  found  out  of  place  at  the  St. 
James's  Theatre,  and  did  not  repay  the  cost  of  outlay  ;  whilst  the 
experiment  of  magnificently  producing  a  classical  play  by  the  late 
Lord  Lytton  at  the  Princess's  Theatre  was  so  disastrous  that  Mr. 
Wilson  Barrett,  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  reverted  to  melo- 
drama of  a  homely  pattern,  and  discovered  that  yeomen  farmers  who 
go  to  the  dogs  and  take  flying  leaps  over  the  Thames  Embankment 
are  more  appreciated  than  Roman  consuls  in  white  togas  and  silver 
hair.  We  do  not  for  one  moment  mean  to  imply  that  there  is  not  a 
public  ever  ready  to  accept  and  encourage  what  is  exceptionally  fine 
or  stirring.  No  genius  has  ever  yet  been  denied  a  hearing  in  London. 
No  grand  or  noble  example  of  acting  has  been  passed  or  unrecog- 


JAN.  i,  1886.]  OUR    OMNIBUS-BOX. 


49 


nised.  It  does  not  matter  whether  it  comes  from  countryman  or 
stranger,  from  foreigner  or  kinsman,  good  acting  and  good  pla\ 
ever  welcome.  A  Jefferson  or  Salvini,  a  Bernhardt  or  a  Hu< 
will  always  command  attention  and  respect.  What  is  worth  s- 
is  always  seen  in  this  country.  But  what  the  public  will  not  stand 
is  ar.Yea  mediocritas.  They  will  have  the  best  of  everything,  not  the 
second  best.  How  to  get  the  best  is  the  puzzling  problem  for  the 
modern  manager  ;  how  to  encourage  the  best  ever  to  come  to  the 
front  is  his  constant  anxiety.  The  last  vestige  of  a  school  of  acting 
has  apparently  departed  for  ever.  There  are  no  stock  companies  in 
the  country,  and  London  is  feeding  on  its  own  supply.  London, 
indeed,  is  the  only  school  where  actors  and  actresses  can  learn  their 
business,  and  the  consequence  is  that  they  are  tried  and  found  want- 
ing before  they  are  out  of  their  leading-strings.  The  country  is 
crowded  with  plays  that  have  made  a  success  in  London,  and  they 
are  performed  by  players  who  parrot  every  tone,  gesture,  and  bit  of 
business  invented  at  the  original  production.  They  are  not  engaged 
to  create  but  to  imitate;  they  must  not  think  for  themselves,  but 
must  copy — and  slavishly  copy — their  predecessors  in  the  part.  Under 
such  circumstances,  how  difficult  it  must  be  to  discover  anything  like 
original  talent.  The  London  stage  is  recruited  from  amateur  clubs 
and  the  ranks  of  stage-struck  society ;  the  provincial  is  deluged  with 
professional  copyists.  It  becomes  a  serious  question  when  we  see 
such  an  unusual  dearth  of  rising  talent,  and  authors  must  tremble 
for  their  prospective  work  when  heroines,  young,  pretty,  intelligent, 
and  powerful,  are  so  extremely  difficult  to  obtain.  The  loss  is  not 
so  seriously  felt  now  as  it  may  be  in  the  future.  It  does  not  require 
stupendous  intellect  or  abnormal  power  to  upset  chairs  and  tables  in 
a  farcical  comedy,  or  to  jig  in  a  burlesque.  But  if  ever  the  day  comes 
•when  there  is  a  cry  for  the  poetic  drama  or  old  English  corned}-  the 
demand  for  good  actors  and  actresses  will  be  far  greater  than  the 
supply.  The  lower  and  subordinate  ranks  of  the  profession  were 
never  so  well  and  intelligently  filled  as  now.  Let  us  hope  that  a 
bright  star  will  one  day  shine  forth  from  these  insignificant  clusters  of 
constellations. 


Amongst  the  more  striking  likenesses  of  "  Men  of  the  Time  " 
played  at  the  colossal  sing-song  to  which  the  Society  of  British  Artists 
invited  tout  Londres  on  the  evening  of  the  i2th  ult.  was  an  admirable 
portrait  of  Sir  George  Macfarren,  the  gifted  and  amiable  Principal  of  the 
Royal  Academy  of  Music,  painted  by  Mrs.  C loodman,  whose  manipulation 
of  the  brush  exhibits  no  symptoms  of  failing  power,  although  half  a. 
century  has  passed  away  since  her  canvasses  first  obtained  favourable 
public  notice.  Nearly  that  long  interval  of  time  has  elapsed  since  Mrs. 
Goodman  executed  a  fine  "  counterfeit  presentment"  of  the  musical  Earl 
of  Westmoreland,  who  was  then  President  of  the  Hanover  Square  In- 
stitution, in  the  council-room  of  which  the  work  in  question  may  still  be 
seen.  Sir  George  Macfarren's  portrait  is  a  half-length,  representing  the 

NEW   SERIES. — VOL.    VII.  E 


50  THE     THEATRE.  [JAN.  ,,  ,8S6. 

veteran  musician  in  the  ordinary  morning  dress  of  the  present  day.  It 
reproduces  his  thoughtful,  somewhat  sad  expression  of  countenance  with 
extraordinary  truthfulness,  and  is,  indeed,  in  every  respect  a  remarkable 
picture.  Its  proper  place,  obviously,  would  be  within  the  walls  of  the 
Institution  in  connection  with  which  Sir  George  Macfarren  has  done  such 
invaluable  service  to  the  cause  of  musical  art  in  this  metropolis. 


I  have  just  read,  with  intense  interest  and  pleasure,  a  book  recently 
published  by  Messrs.  Cassell,  entitled  "  King  Solomon's  Mines."  It  is 
certainly  one  of  the  most  fascinating  volumes  that  has  been  recently  issued 
from  the  press  of  this  popular  firm.  So  absorbing,  indeed,  is  its  interest, 
that  the  reader  having  perused  the  first  chapter  is  [impelled  to  devour 
every  word  of  the  three  hundred  and  odd  pages  of  which  the  book  con- 
sists, at  a  single  sitting.  What  appears  at  the  outset  to  be  a  tale  of  travel, 
rapidly  develops  into  a  fairy  story  so  well  told,  and  abounding  in  so  much 
human  nature,  that  the  reader  is  entranced  as  though  by  the  perusal  of  a 
thrilling  narrative  of  actual  experience.  The  style  of  the  author,  Mr.  E. 
Rider  Haggard,  is  simple,  as  befits  such  a  story,  and  to  the  purpose.  The 
book,  moreover,  contains  pathetic  and  humorous  touches  drawn  in  a 
masterly  manner.  At  one  moment  the  proverbial  lump  swells  in  your 
throat,  and  at  the  next  you  are  moved  to  immoderate  merriment.  "  King 
Solomon's  Mines,"  beautifully  printed,  aud  published  at  a  price  which 
places  it  within  the  easy  reach  of  the  public,  should  prove  a  popular 
present  for  boys,  young  and  old  alike. 

"  Chanty  covers  a  multitude  of  sins,"  is  an  old  adage,  the  truth  of 
which  has  never  been  better  shown  than  since  amateur  performances 
came  into  fashion.  Such  a  play  as  "  The  Shaughraun  ''  should  never 
be  attempted  at  St.  George's  Hall,  where  the  resources  of  the  scenery 
are  limited,  and  some  of  the  cloths  painfully  shabby  ;  two  of  them,  an 
Elizabethan  interior,  and  a  view  of  trees,  have  done  such  good  and 
long  service,  that,  as  they  have  in  no  way  been  spoilt  by  the  hand  of 
the  restorer,  they  might  now  rest  peaceably  in  some  museum  of 
antiquities.  Some  of  the  sets,  however,  were  remarkably  good  and 
pretty  for  the  place ;  but  the  one  change  at  sight  was  highly 
ludicrous.  This  attempt  at  the  presentation  of  a  drama,  quite  un- 
suited  to  amateurs,  was  made  by  the  Owl  Dramatic  Society,  on 
November  24 ;  the  object  being  to  aid  the  building  fund  of  the 
Great  Northern  Central  Hospital.  The  Richmond  Orchestral 
Society,  who  gave  their  services,  played  so  painfully  out  of  tune, 
as  to  call  forth  laughter  from  the  good-natured  part  of  the  audience, 
and  hisses  from  the  less  well-disposed.  The  play  dragged  fearfully, 
most  of  the  performers  speaking  in  a  monotonous  and  low  key  ;  the 
lady  who  played  Moya  is  perhaps  unaware  that  it  was  impossible  to 
hear  a  single  word  she  said.  Three  of  the  performers  alone  deserve 
special  mention — Mr.  Sidney  Barrett,  whose  conception  of  Harvey 
Duff  was  good  but  exaggerated,  and  the  brogue  assumed  being  at 


JAN.  i,  I886.J  OL'R      OMNIBUS-BOX.  5I 

times  so  strong  that  it  was  difficult  to  understand  the  words.  As 
Captain  Molineux,  Mr.  'Arthur  W.  Hughes  managed  to  be  simple 
and  natural  in  a  part  which  is  anything  but  the  latter  ;  rememl, 
his  excellent  acting  as  Carker  in  "  Heart's  Delight"  last  year,  1 
glad  to  be  able  to  keep  my  good  opinion  of  him.  The  evident  reason 
why  "  The  Shaughraun  "  was  selected  by  the  Owls  was,  no  doubt, 
that  the  title  role  suited  Mr.  Frank  Hole  to  the  life;  unfortunately, 
the  Star  system  is  even  a  greater  mistake  with  amateurs  than  with 
professionals.  With  the  exception  that  his  brogue  did  not  seem  it) 
hail  from  the  Emerald  Isle,  I  have  nothing  but  praise  to  give  to  Mi. 
Frank  Hole's  impersonation  :  it  was  so  full  of  spirits  and  genuine 
fun,  earnest  and  unexaggerated,  that  it  saved  the  day  from  an  other- 
wise very  dull  performance. 


The  performance  of  "Twelfth  Night,"  given  by  the  Irving  A.D.C. 
on  November  26,  on  behalf  of  the  Wimbledon  Art  College  for  Ladies, 
had  many  good  points  ;  it  only  needed  a  little  more  rehearsing,  and 
no  doubt  the  second  performance,  announced  for  the  5th  of  December, 
was  excellent.  The  small,  but  most  difficult  part  ofOrsino,  was  safe 
in  the  hands  of  Mr.  B.  Webster,  who  portrayed  the  love-sick  Duke 
with  discretion  and  earnestness ;  but  I  did  not  understand  the 
necessity  of  the  dark  make  up  ;  there  are  plenty  of  fair  southeners, 
and  the  black  wig  was  decidely  unbecoming  to  Mr.  Webster.  I 
should  not  mention  this  detail  were  it  not  that  I  think  Mr.  \Y. 
Terriss's  dark  locks  may  have  something  to  do  with  the  matter,  and 
I  always  condemn  imitation  of  this  kind.  Mr.  F.  H.  Macey  would 
have  been  a  very  good  Sir  Toby  had  he  known  his  lines  ;  amateurs 
ought  to  remember  that  to  be  letter  perfect  is  the  A  B  C  of  acting, 
they  should  know  all  their  words  at  the  first  rehearsal,  so  as  to  give 
all  their  mind  to  the  proper  interpretation,  without  being  preoccupied 
with  an  uncertainty  as  to  what  comes  next.  Mr.  H.  Marsh  brought 
out  the  foolish  side  of  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek's  character  very  well 
but  the  vanity  of  the  man  was  hardly  marked  enough.  The  clown  of 
Mr.  F.  Sherbrook  was  excellent,  and  his  song  "  O  Mistress  Mine  " 
very  well  sung,  the  one  in  the  last  act  was  not  so  good  for  the  reason 
that  it  was  in  too  high  a  key  for  his  voice.  Mr.  H.  D.  Shepard  was 
very  good  as  Malvolio,  his  "  smiling"  on  Olivia  was  a  little  overdone, 
but  this  is  the  only  exception  I  can  take  to  an  excellent  imperso- 
nation, the  last  scene  of  all,  after  he  is  restored  to  liberty,  was 
remarkably  good.  The  Sebastian  of  Miss  Muriel  Levita  was  rather 
tame,  her  acting,  walk,  and  gesture  wanted  breadth.  Unnecessary 
"  Gag  "  is  the  worst  of  habits,  but  it  is  better  to  do  anything  than  to 
stop  short  looking  helpless.  The  scene  of  the  duel  between  Sebastian 
and  Sir  Andrew  was  entirely  spoilt  by  Olivia  not  coming  on  at  the 
proper  time  ;  Sebastian,  who  had  struck  a  very  bold  attitude,  had  with 
this  exhausted  her  knowledge  ot  fencing,  and  when  a  voice  from  the 
wing  called  out  "  go  on,"  the  young  lady  audibly  answered,  "  I  can't/' 

E    2 


52  THE     THEATRE.  UAN.  i, 

and  looked  very  unhappy,  an  awkward  pause  ensuing ;  any  business, 
whether  real  fencing  or  not,  would  have  been  better  than  this.  As 
for  Mrs.  Thomson,  she  had  no  excuse  for  not  appearing  at  the  right 
time.  This  lady  is  pretty,  and  dresses  well,  but  I  am  sorry  to  have 
to  repeat  about  her  Olivia  all  I  said  of  her  Portia  last  year;  expression 
of  feature  or  byplay  are  ignored  by  her,  and  she  delivers  her  lines  in 
a  monotonous  fashion,  infusing  little  or  no  meaning  in  them.  Miss 
Annie  Woodzelle  was  a  spirited  Maria,  helping  considerably  to  the 
success  of  the  performance.  Miss  Taigi  Kean,  a  very  young  lady, 
appeared  as  Viola,  and  was  rather  overweighted,  but  she  gives  good 
promise.  She  has  a  sympathetic  face,  a  good  voice,  and  a  good  idea 
of  how  blank  verse  should  be  spoken ;  if  Viola  is  a  little  beyond  her 
power  at  present,  she  is  on  the  right  road  to  become  a  good  actress.. 
The  sweet  expression  of  sudden  timidity  making  one  almost  think 
one  could  perceive  a  blush  upon  her  cheek,  when  Orsino  first  dis- 
covers that  she  is  a  woman,  was  one  of  those  little  touches  which 
show  a  true  instinct,  it  was  natural,  and  it  was  right.  The  other 
members  of  the  club  rendered  good  service  in  the  minor  parts,  and 
their  excellent  stage-manager,  Mr.  Charles  Fry,  received  a  deserved 
call.  The  performance  took  place  at  St.  George's  Hall. 


On  November  28,  the  Glow- Worms  assembled  at  St.  George's 
Hall  to  entertain  their  friends,  who  mustered  in  great  numbers.  The 
Farce  "  Done  on  both  sides,"  gave  opportunity  for  some  very  good 
acting,  on  the  part  of  Mr.  A.  H.  Beard  as  Brownjohn,  Mr.  Geo. 
Knight  as  Phipps,  and  Miss  Knewstub  as  Mrs.  Whiffles  ;  this  young 
lady  was  remarkably  good,  and  so  was  her  "  make-up."  Miss  E. 
Hallett  and  Mr.  H.  J.  Drinkwater  werefairin  the  remaining  parts,  but 
the  gentleman's  memory  was  unsatisfactory.  For  some  unaccount- 
able reason  the  curtain  did  not  come  down  soon  enough,  placing  the 
performers  in  a  rather  awkward  predicament ;  they  did  their  best  in- 
filling up  the  time  with  some  extra  business,  but  it  made  'the  ending 
of  the  play  rather  confused.  Pinero's  comedy  "  The  Money  Spinner  " 
came  after;  Miss  Knewstub  was  again  very  good  as  Dolly.  The 
Margot  of  Miss  Strudwick  was  also  a  success,  but  her  face  was  a 
failure,  the  black  lines  were  only  unmistakable  streaks  of  paint,  and 
not  wrinkles.  Miss  Cooke  is  always  painstaking  and  conscientious  ; 
her  acting  is  natural  enough,  but  she  lacks  insight  into  character. 
Her  Millicent  Baycott  was  rather  colourless ;  one  cannot  take 
exception  at  what  this  lady  did,  but  at  her  losing  several  oppor- 
tunities of  doing  much  both  in  expression  and  byplay.  Mr.  C.  Carr 
was  satisfactory  as  Harold  Baycott,  but  rather  too  much  given  to 
looking  up  skywards.  Mr.  A.  E.  Drinkwater  was  an  excellent  Jules 
Faubert.  The  same  might  be  said  of  Mr.  Wm.  Christie,  if  he  had 
not  been  so  uncertain  of  his  words ;  his  conception  of  Baron  Croodle 
was  capital.  By  the  bye,  I  noticed  that  several  times  during 
the  evening  the  prompter  was  not  at  his  post  when  required.  Mr. 


JAN.  i,  .886.]  OUR  OMNIBUS-BOX.  53 

H.  Weeden  Cooke,  Jun.,  has  never  done  anything  better  than  his 
Lord  Rengussie  ;  there  is  little  or  nothing  to  do  in  the  first  act,  but 
in  the  second  the  part  is  all-important,  and  Mr.  Cooke  went  through 
this  with  flying  colours  ;  he  was  gentlemanly  and  natural,  and  showed 
a  depth  of  true  feeling  that  made  one  forget  for  the  moment  that  he 
was  acting,  and  which  deserves  the  highest  commendation.  The 
Euterpean  Amateur  Orchestral  Society,  which  numbers  as  many  as 
six  ladies  in  its  ranks,  gave  a  good  selection  of  music  very  well 
rendered  ;  they  do  honour  to  their  conductor,  Lieut.  Colonel  H.  A. 
Douglass. 

Our  Melbourne  correspondent  writes : — "  There  has  been  but  little 
variety  in  theatrical  matters  during  the  past  month.  'The  Private 
Secretary'  was  finally  played  at  the  Theatre  Royal  on  Oct.  9,  and  was 
then  taken  into  the  country.  The  Company  are  now  on  their  way  to 
Adelaide,  where  the  comedy  will  be  played  at  the  Academy  of  Music. 
The  evergreen  **  Struck  Oil"  was  revived  on  Oct.  10,  with  Mr.  J.  C. 
Williamson  and  Miss  Maggie  Moore  as  John  and  Lizzie  Stofel.  This 
being  our  great  racing  carnival  the  Theatre  Royal  has  been  given  over  to  a 
series  of  revivals,  a  different  piece  being  played  every  night.  Mr.  Geo. 
Rignold  failed  to  make  '  Adam  Bede  '  a  success  at  the  Opera  House,  and 
it  made  way  on  Oct.  17  for  '  Peep  o'  Day.'  This,  also,  would  not  draw, 
so '  The  Lights  o'  London  '  was  revived  on  the  24th,  and  crowded  -houses 
are  the  result.  Mr.  Rignold  appears  as  Harold  Armitage,  Mr.  T.  B. 
Appleby  as  Jarvis,  and  Miss  Roland  Watts-Phillips  as  Bess.  4  Mixed ' 
enjoyed  a  successful  six  weeks'  rim  at  the  Bijou  Theatre,  and  on  Oct.  24 
'  Written  in  Sand  '  and  '  Nita's  First '  were  presented  by  the  best  comedy 
company  that  Australia  can  produce,  the  theatre  having  passed  into  the 
hands  of  Messrs.  Garner,  Williamson,  and  Musgrove.  Miss  Nina  Bouci- 
.cault  and  Mr.  Dion  G.  Boucicault  are  members  of  this  company.  Mr. 
Pinero's  comedy,  'The  Magistrate,'  is  announced  for  Saturday  next. 
4  Mixed '  has  been  removed  to  the  Nugget  Theatre,  but  the  change  of 
houses  has  not  proved  satisfactory.  Emerson's  Minstrels  are  occupying 
St.  George's  Hall,  and  the  Federal  Minstrels  are  at  the  Victoria  Hall. 
Leon  and  Cashman's  Minstrels  open  at  the  Nugget  Theatre  next  Satur- 
day evening.  The  Theatre  Royal,  Sydney,  has  been  given  over  to  a 
series  of  revivals  of  the  Gilbert  and  Sullivan  operas,  in  which  Miss  Alice 
Barrett  is  appearing.  Mr.  Harry  Rickards  is  singing  at  the  Academy  of 
Music  in  the  same  city,  Mr.  Geo.  Darrell  is  playing  his  own  drama,  '  The 
Naked  Truth,'  at  the  Opera  House,  and  Mr.  Alfred  Dampier  is  playing 
4  Brought  to  Justice '  at  the  Gaiety  Theatre.  Mr.  Wybert  Reeve  is 
appearing  in  '  Impulse,'  at  the  Theatre  Royal,  Adelaide.  Miss  Genevieve 
Ward's  great  performance  of  Antigone,'  already  mentioned  by  me,  takes 
place  in  the  Town  Hall  on  Nov.  6.  Close  upon  ^3,500  have  already 
been  received  for  seats.  Mr.  Dion  Boucicault  and  his  young  wife  are 
playing  in  Dunedin,  New  Zealand.  A  leading  daily  published  a  telegram 
a  few  weeks  ago  which  stated  that  Miss  Agnes  Robinson  still  claimed  to 
.be  Mr.  Boucicault's  wife,  the  divorce  proceedings  being  incomplete.  Mr. 


54  THE    THEATRE.  [JAN.  i,  1886. 

Boucicault  has  written  in  reply  that  her  claim  to  be  considered  his  wife 
is  '  farcical,'  and  that  he  has  no  wife  but  Miss  Louise  Horndyke.  John 
F.  Sheridan  and  the  '  Fun  on  the  Bristol '  Company  are  resting  in  Sydney. 
Mr.  G.  A.  Sala  is  lecturing  in  New  Zealand.  '  Nita's  First '  has  achieved 
the  special  honour  of  the  particular  attention  of  our  two  most  powerful 
dailies,]  and  both  have  agreed  that  the  comedy  is  too  immoral  for  our 
stage.  It  has  been  drawing  very  poor  houses  during  the  past  few  days." 


The  Carleton  D.C.  gave  a  performance  in  aid  of  the  Great  Northern 
Central  Hospital,  at  St.  George's  Hall,  December  12.  In  "  A  Rough 
Diamond  "  Miss  Lillian  Millward  and  Mr.  A.  E.  Drinkwater  as  Margery 
and  Cousin  Joe,  were  very  good  and  thoroughly  at  home  in  their  parts. 
Mr.  J.  M.  Powell  surprised'me,  I  could  not  have  thought  it  possible  for 
an  usually  excellent  amateur  to  act  so  badly.  The  remaining  three 
neither  knew  their  parts  nor  had  the  slightest  notion  of  acting.  The  play 
was  unrehearsed,  and,  but  for  the  two  first-mentioned,  a  complete  failure. 
"  The  Ladies'  Battle  "  fared  scarcely  better.  The  action  dragged  fear- 
fully, most  of  the  performers  spoke  in  undertone,  and  showed  neither 
spirit  nor  briskness.  Mrs.  Conyers  d'Arcy,  in  spite  of  some  good  acting, 
did  not  escape  the  general  influence  of  dulness,  and  gave  a  rather  heavy 
impersonation.  I  could  not  well  understand  why  she  wore  a  man's  wig. 
Miss  Gertrude  Vindon  as  Leonie  showed  much  earnestness  and  feeling, 
but  was  too  brusque  in  manner,  and  now  and  then  assumed  a  dignity  of 
deportment  unsuited  to  a  child  of  sixteen  ;  the  same  may  be  said  of  her 
long-trained  satin  dress,  with  its  profuse  peail  trimmings.  Mr.  J.  M. 
Powell  was  rather  good  in  the  second  act,  but  not  so  in  the  first  and  last; 
lovers  are  not  in  his  line.  Mr.  H.  S.  Carstairs  and  Mr.  A.  E.  Drinkwater 
were  mistaken  in  their  conception  of  their  respective  characters.  The 
forme  r  only  showed  the  comic  and  foolish  side  of  Grignon,  who,  despite 
his  ridicule,  is  a  good-hearted  fellow,  and  earnestly  in  love.  The  latter 
was  painfully  slow  and  heavy  as  Montrichard  ;  and  both  seemed  to  forget 
that  they  were  representing  two  gentlemen  moving  in  the  best  society, 
and  not  a  buffoon  and  a  police-agent.  The  Euterpeans,  undoubtedly 
one  of  the  very  best  amateur  orchestra,  gave  their  services,  and  delighted 
everyone  by  their  capital  execution.  A  very  pretty  gavotte,  "  Euterpe," 
by  their  conductor,  Lieut. -Colonel  H.  A.  Douglas,  gained  an  encore, 
which  could  not  be  accepted,  as  the  curtain  was  about  to  rise. 

A  correspondent  sends  the  following  notes  from  a  Black  Forest 
theatre  : — "  In  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  spent  at  the  old  University 
town  of  Freiburg,  in  the  Grand  Duchy  of  Baden,  the  writer  had  many 
opportunities  of  studying  the  present  German  drama  and  opera  as  they 
are  maintained  by  an  efficient  stock  company,  with  occasional  assistance 
from  elsewhere.  The  first  thing  that  strikes  an  Englishman  on  examining 
the  programme  for  the  week  is  the  extraordinary  amount  of  work  which 
the  company  has  to  get  through,  Performances  are  given  every  Sunday, 
Tuesday,  Thursday,  and  Saturday,  and  occasionally  on  Wednesdays 


JAN.  i,  1880.]  OUR     OMNIBUS-BOX. 


55 


besides,  there  being  usually  two  operas  and  two  dramas  given  ever} 
In  no  case  does  one  see  a  play  insufficiently  rehearsed,  and  tin-  \n 
the  prompter  is  very  rarely  called  into  requisition.  Small  farces,  when 
given,  are  rendered  just  as  carefully  as  more  important  works,  and  the 
principals  act  in  them,  the  result  being  that  the  whole  performance  is 
pleasing  from  end  to  end,  and  stamped  throughout  with  the  impress  «f 
,care  and  thoroughness.  The  audience  is  always  attentive,  and  should 
.any  hitch  or  untoward  incident  occur  they  greet  it  with  a  broad  but  good- 
humoured  smile,  which  never  degenerates  into  a  laugh  of  ridicule.  The 
strictest  silence  during  the  performance  of  a  play  is  exacted,  and  no 
.applause  is  given  before  the  last  notes  of  the  accompaniment  of  a  song. 
The  gain  in  the  last  case  is  very  considerable  over  the  noise  of  hand-clapping, 
which  immediately  follows  a  song  in  England  often  before  the  last  sun£ 
note  has  died  away,  and  always  before  the  end  of  the  accompaniment. 
During  the  overture  to  an  opera  this  silence  is  also  insisted  on,  and  here, 
too,  the  gain  is  very  great.  As  soon  as  the  play  begins  the  gas  of  the 
chandelier  is  lowered  so  as  to  reduce  the  auditorium  to  a  very  deep 
twilight,  which  greatly  enhances  the  brightness  of  the  stage,  and  is  also 
much  pleasantsr  to  the  eyes  than  the  glare  of  a  French  or  English  theatre. 
There  is  no  more  objectionable  feature  of  the  German  stage  than  the  way 
in  which  performers  stop  the  action  of  a  piece  in  order  to  acknow 
.applause,  and  the  indiscriminate  manner  in  which  wreaths  and  boih 
are  thrown  often  at  most  inopportune  moments.  On  the  other  hand, 
encores  are  seldom  demanded,  and  still  more  rarely  given.  Though  one 
.often  at  the  moment  regrets  this,  yet  it  is  a  great  question  whether  it  be 
not  better  art  to  have  none,  as  an  encore  very  often  hampers  the 
continuous  development  of  the  plot. 


"Of  the  plays  which  have  been  lately  performed  here  the  most  striking 
were  '  The  Death  of  Wallenstein  '  and  *  Othello,1  in  both  of  which  the 
company  was  strengthened  by  the  assistance  of  Herr  Ludwig  Barnay,  from 
the  Saxe-Meinengen  company,  in  the  title  roles.  His  Wallenstein  might 
have  stepped  out  of  a  contemporary  canvas,  and  was  a  most  consistent 
.and  well  sustained  performance.  In  the  part  of  Othello  he  seemed  to  be 
fatigued  before  the  end  of  the  play,  but  was  most  happy  in  some  of  his 
renderings  of  celebrated  lines.  With  regard  to  the  Smothering  Scene,  he 
follows  the  lead  of  Mr.  Irving  more  nearly  than  that  of  Mr.  Booth.  Of  comic 
plays  '  Rosenkrantz  and  Giilldenstein '  and  Niesel's  *  Papageno '  have 
been  given  with  great  success.  The  latter  might  suit  the  Criteron  Com- 
pany. With  regard  to  operas,  the  company  here  show  to  far  more 
.advantage  in  the  smaller  works  than  in  such  great  operas  as '  The 
Hugenots,'  *  II  Trovatore,'  or  '  Der  Freischiitz,'  which  require  a  large 
stage  and  fine  scenery.  In  «  Fidelio,' '  Czar  and  Carpenter,'  '  Manage  de 
Figaro,'  '  Le  Postilion  de  Lonjumcau,'  and  the  perennial  '  Beggar 
Student'  they  are  at  their  best.  In  Flotow's  'Martha'  and  '  India  '  they 
.are  also  seen  to  great  advantage.  The  latter  we  must  hope  soon  to  see 
on  the  English  s.tage.  As  yet  there  have  been  no  absolute  novelties 
given,  but  Nessler's 'Trompeter  von  Siikkingen' is  in  rehearsal,  and  is 


56  THE    THE  A  TRE.  [JAN.  i,  1886- 

greatly  looked  forward  to,  the  music  of  the  celebrated  '  Yung  Werner's 
Abschieds  Lied  "  being  heard  everywhere.  The  music  of  the  whole  opera 
is  said  to  be  fully  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  that  of  the  '  Pied  Piper  of 
Hamlyn '  (*  Der  Rattenfauger  von  Hamelu.')  That  the  German  pro- 
vincial stage,  if  such  a  word  may  be  used,  is  far  in  advance  of  ours  there- 
is  no  doubt,  but  with  the  gradual  but  certain  growth  of  English  opera  we 
may  hope  soon  to  silence  for  ever  the  imputation  that  England  is  an 
unmusical  nation." 


The  favourable  impression  made  last  year  by  the  Insurance  Amateurs' 
performance  of  "  Plot  and  Passion,"  was  confirmed  this  year  by  their 
appearance  in  the  "Two  Roses  "and  "The  First  Night,"  at  St.  George's 
Hall,  on  December  15  last.  Both  pieces  were  excellently  put  on  the 
stage,  well  stage-managed,  and  acted  with  spirit  and  "go";  the  company 
being  of  great  individual  excellence,  and  playing  together  with  surprising 
discipline.  In  the  "  Two  Roses,"  Mr.  W.  L.  Hallward  was  most  successful 
as  Jack  Wyatt,  acting  with  admirable  manliness  and  force.  Mr.  J.  C. 
Carstairs  was  a  very  good  Caleb  Deecie.  His  appearance  suited  the  part 
well,  and,  barring  an  occasional  tendency  to  move  about  with  greater 
facility  than  a  blind  man  could,  he  acted  the  part  consistently  and  cleverly. 
Mr.  E.  B.  Morrison  did  not  sink  his  own  individuality  sufficiently  in  playing 
the  very  difficult  part  of  Digby  Grant,  and  it  was  evident  at  many  points 
that  the  character  sat  uneasily  on  him.  But  he  acted  always  with  intelli- 
gence, and  made  all  his  points  tell.  Our  Mr.  Jenkins  was  variable. 
Occasionally  Mr.  F.  E.  Lacy  acted  him  with  the  requisite  unction,  but  he 
seemed  to  relapse  into  periodical  terror  lest  he  should  be  too  funny,  and 
became  ineffective.  Mr.  H.  C.  Rush's  Mr.  Furnival  was  an  admirable- 
piece  of  acting;  specially  good  was  his  relation  of  Caleb  Deecie' s  for- 
tunes, in  the  third  act.  Ida  and  Lotty  were  charmingly  played  by  Miss 
Fores-Brette  and  Miss  Millie  Holland,  and  Miss  Schuberth  was  a  good 
Mrs.  Cups  ;  but  Mrs.  Lenox  Browne  was  only  moderately  good  as  Mrs. 
Jenkins.  In  "  The  First  Night,"  Mr.  Albert  J.  Bovay  played  Achille 
Talma  Dufard  with  really  extraordinary  ability.  Few  amateurs  display 
such  richness  of  humour,  and  such  power  of  expression.  Rose  Dufard 
\vas  prettily  played  by  Madame  Florence  Grant,  and  the  other  parts  were 
satisfactorily  filled.  But  the  singing  was  too  dreadful  !  Both  pieces 
were  received  with  tremendous  enthusiasm  by  a  fairly  good  house. 


Miss  Lydia  Thompson,  whose  photograph  appears  in  this  number, 
made  her  first  appearance  on  the  stage  on  December  26,  1853,  as- 
Little  Silverhair  in  the  Christmas  piece  of  that  title  produced  at  the 
Haymarket  Theatre.  In  the  following  year  she  played  Little  Bo-Peep 
in  the  extravaganza  of  the  same  name  brought  out  at  the  Haymarket, 
On  November  1 6,  1859,  she  appeared  at  the  St.  James's  Theatre  as 
Cygnetta  in  a  fairy  spectacle,  entitled  "  The  Swan  and  Edgar."  At 
>ame  theatre,  the  following  year,  in  a  "  ballet-fww-burlesque," 
entitled  "  My  Name  is  Norval,"  she  played  the  part  of  Young; 


VVXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  X  X  X  X  XX  X  X  X  XX  X  X  X  X  X  XX  X  XX  X  X  X  X  X  X  X  XX  X  X  X  X  XXXX  XXXXX  XX  •»  ' 


"  Let  niirtli  go  on  ;  let  pleasure  know  no  pause." 

ROWE. 


FROM    A    PHOTOGRAPH  BY    BAKKAUD,    263,    OXFORD    STREET,    W. 


JAN.  i,  1886.]  OUR      OMNIKl.  S-HOX.  57 

Norval.  Monday,  April  o,  1860,  Miss  Thompson  appeared  at  the 
Lyceum  Theatre  in  a  burlesque,  originally  played  by  members  of  the 
Savage  Club,  for  a  charitable  purpose, entitled  "The  Forty  Thieves ;" 
and  subsequently,  November  5,  1860,  as  Fanchette  in  "The  Pets  of 
the  Parterre,"  written  by  Stirling  Coyne.  In  1861,  August  19,  in  th<» 
first  performance,  at  the  same  theatre,  of  Falconer's  play,  "  Woman  ; 
or,  Love  against  the  World,"  she  acted  the  character  of  Norah  ;  and 
in  an  after-piece  by  the  same  author,  entitled  "  The  Fetches,"  the 
part  of  Mary  Brady.  But  Miss  Lydia  Thompson  will  be  be 
membered  as  a  sparkling  and  extremely  clever  actress  in  burl, 
in  which  she  has  not  been  excelled  on  the  London  stage.  Peril. -ip •: 
her  best  hits  have  been  made  in  "  Der  Freischutz,''  **The  Field  of 
the  Cloth  of  Gold,"  "  Blue-Beard,"  and  "  Robinson  Crusoe." 
Lydia  Thompson,  it  may  be  added,  has  met  with  great  success  in  th»r 
United  States,  where  she  is  now  accompanying  her  clever  daughtn, 
Miss  Tilbury,  who  is  on  tour  with  Miss  Mary  Anderson. 


Mr.  Augustus  Harris's  pantomime  of  "  Aladdin,''  brought  out  at 
Drury  Lane  on  December  26,  is  as  brilliant  a  production  as  anything 
which  this  clever  stage  manager  has  yet  done,  and  is  likely  to  draw 
crowded  houses  for  a  long  Reason.  The  "  Dream  of  Fair  Women," 
admirably  designed  by  Mr.  Alfred  Thompson,  is  a  pretty  idea  excel- 
lently executed,  while  children  are  sure  to  be  delighted  with  the 
scene  which  represents  the  building  of  Aladdin's  palace.  Miss  Grace 
Huntley  is  a  pretty  and  pleasing  representative  of  Aladdin.  She 
sings  sweetly  and  dances  nimbly.  Mr.  Harry  Nicholls  is  a  quaint 
Widow  Twankay,  and  his  skit  on  Miss  Kate  Vaughan's  dancing  in 
44  Excelsior"  is  a  clever  and  harmless  bit  of  caricature.  While  Old 
Drury  is  sure  to  be  packed  by  lovers  of  modern  pantomime,  Mi. 
William  Holland  seeks  to  fill  Covent  Garden  by  means  of  the  attrac- 
tion of  a  circus  on  a  large  scale.  The  entertainment  here  provided 
is  of  the  best  possible  kind,  and  should  not  be  missed  by  those  who 
care  to  witness  dexterous  riding,  clever  conjuring,  and  capital 
gymnastic  exercises. 


58  THE    THEATRE.  u^.  ,,  l886. 


At    the    Lyceum. 

DECEMBER  19,  1885. 

MARGARET. 

An  old-world  German  maiden,  frank  of  heart, 

And  certes,  of  exceeding  loveliness, 

Owning  the  Teuton  blood  in  each  fair  tress. 
What  wonder  that  the  frequent  tear-drops  start, 
A  tribute  to  the  pathos  of  thine  art : 

We  see  thee  fall  a  victim  to  the  wiles 

Of  Faust,  that  fell  seducer,  who  beguiles 
So  sweet  a  soul  to  play  so  ill  a  part. 
We  see  thee  at  the  altar,  while  the  hymn 

Of  doom  peals  o'er  thee  ;  with  thee,  too,  alway 
The  Devil's  whispers  make  thine  eyes  grow  dim 

With  terror  ;  and  the  poor  lips  dare  not  pray. 
Would  that  great  Goethe's  shade  could  rise  and  see 
Once  more  his  matchless  Margaret  in  thee. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

The  Devil  is  a  gentleman,  'tis  said  : 

And  so  with  gallant  bearing,  sword  on  hip, 
And  swift  satiric  smile  upcta  the  lip, 

With  gay  cock-feather  curling  o'er  thy  head 

Thou  standest  here  this  eve,  in  vivid  red 
Amid  the  Brocken  phantoms :  and  anon, 
Poor  Gretchen  falls,  and  peace  and  hope  are  gone 

"With  Faust  upon  his  evil  errand  sped. 

Through  all  the  weird  enchantments  of  the  night, 
Thou  flashes!  like  the  messenger  of  Fate  ; 

Till  to  the  dungeon  steals  the  morning  light, 
And  the  lost  lover's  rescue  comes  too  late. 

Had  Goethe  known  thee  he  had  said  full  fain, 

"  Here  is  the  mocking  Devil  of  my  brain." 

H.  SAVILE  CLARKE, 


'vxxvxxxxxvxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx, <.^ 

[•null 


"  Tell  me  some  more,  I  like  it." 

ON  CHA\(,K. 


FROM    A    PHOTOGRAPH  BY    BARRAUD,    263,    OXFORD   STREET,    W. 


THE  THEATRE. 


The    Lyceum  Faust. 

I.— COULD    FAUST    MARRY    MARGARET? 
BY  F.  A.  MARSHALL. 

HERE  are  certain  quasi-theological  questions  connected  with 
-•-      Goethe's  "  Faust  "  that  have  been  touched  upon  in  some 
of  the  criticisms  on  the  performance  at   the    Lyceum   Theatre 
about  which,  Mr.  Editor,  I  should  like,  with  your  permission,  to 
say  a  few  words.     Many  of  the  critics  have  objected  to  the  scene 
in   which  Faust  threatened  Mephistopheles  tc  man 
and    Mephistopheles  in  his  turn  threatened  Faust  with   certain 
awful  punishments  if  he  dared  so  to  do.     Most  of  the  objectors 
to  this  scene,  while  condemning  it  as  inconsistent  with  both  the 
characters  of  Faust  and  Mephistopheles,  argued  as  if  it  was  im- 
possible that  Faust,  having  sold  himself  to  the  devil,  should  marry 
Margaret.     In  fact,  if  these  objectors  were  right,  it  came  to  this  : 
that,  as  a  consequence  of  his  compact  with  the  fiend,  Faust  had 
sacrificed  entirely  his  free  will.     The  question  is,  could  he  do  so  ? 
I  believe  that  he  could  not,  consistently  with  the  theology  on  which 
"  Faust  and  Margaret"  is  based.  It  is  not  a  question  of  what  Goethe 
himself  believed,    or  what    Faust  may  have  believed.      It  is  a 
fact   that   the  whole  scheme  of  the   poem  assumes  the  truth  of 
Christianity.     It  assumes  the  doctrine  of  the  Redemption,  of 
divinity   of  our    Lord,    and,    therefore,    by    implication,   of    an 
omnipotent  God.     It  also  assumes  the  theological  doctrine  of 
will— that  is  to  say,  that  it  is  in  the  power  of  every  man,  at  any 
moment  of  his  life,  to  do  good  or  evil,  or  not  to  do  good  or  evil, 
just  as  he  chooses.     We  need  not  trouble  ourselves  here  with  the 
more  complicated  questions  of  demonology ;  whether  such  com- 
pacts as  that  signed  by  Faust  are  possible  or  impossible  does  not 

NEW  SERIES— VOL.  VII.  F 


60  THE  THEATRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886. 

affect  the  point  at  issue.     Presuming  him  to  have  signed  such  a 
compact,  he  was  ipso  facto  excommunicated,  and  in  a  state  of 
mortal  sin  ;  but  this  could  not  prevent  him,  if  he  chose,   from 
marrying  Margaret,  provided  he  could  get  any  priest  to  perform 
the  ceremony  ;  nor,  supposing  him  to  have  done  so  by  an  act  of 
deceit — that  is  to  say,  by  concealing  from  the  priest  the  fact  that 
he  was  in  a  state  of  mortal  sin — it  could  not  affect  the  validity  of 
the  sacrament,  as  far  as  Margaret  was  concerned.     I  maintain, 
therefore,  that  Faust  was  perfectly  competent  to  marry  Margaret 
if  he  chose,  and  that  Mephistopheles  could  not  prevent  him  doing 
so.     As  to  the  question  of  the  propriety  or  impropriety  of  Faust's 
expressing   a  wish  to  do  so,  I  am  strongly  of  opinion  that  the 
interest  of  the  drama  would  be  much  heightened  were  the  struggles 
of  Faust  to  escape  from  the  infernal  compact  he  had  made  brought 
into   greater    prominence.      I    notice    that    some   critics,   while 
insisting  that  this  proposal  of  Faust  to  make  Margaret  an  honest 
woman  is  ridiculous,  &c.,   &c.,  also  remark  that,  in  the  Lyceum 
version,  there  is  no  mistake  as  to  Faust's  eternal  damnation ;  that 
he  is  not  allowed   (as  Goethe  has  perhaps  rather  implied  than 
stated)  to  go  into  Purgatory.     It  is  quite  clear  that  if,  theologically 
speaking,  Faust  had  any  chance  of  going  to  Purgatory,  he  also 
had  the  power,  at  any  moment,  of  repenting  of  his  sin  and  annul- 
ling the  compact.     If  we  look  at  the  matter  from  an  equitable 
point   of  view,  he  would  no  doubt   morally,  if  not  legally,  have 
broken   his  agreement  with  Mephistopheles  by  doing  any  good 
action  that  would  save  his  soul.     It  would  have  been  quite  open 
to  Mephistopheles,  after  having  tried  persuasion  and  then  threats 
in   vain,  to  have  on  his  side  put  an  end  to  the  compact,  and 
deprived  Faust  of  the  youth  he  had  given  him,  for  a  considera- 
tion, as  that  consideration  was  not  forthcoming.     And  here  it 
may  be  noted  that,  in  all  the  stories  of  demonology  with  which  I 
am  acquainted,  and  in  the  two  most  important  instances  in  the 
Bible,  in   which  the  power  of  Satan  is  practically   illustrated — 
namely,  in  the  temptation  of  Job  and  the  temptation  of  Our  Lord — 
it  is  very  clear  that,  while  a  large  measure  of  supernatural  power 
is  given  to  the  Evil  One,  some  limit  to  that  power  is  clearly  and 
logically  laid  down  ;  that  is  to  say,  the  Devil  is  never  allowed,  by 
himself  or  through  any  of  his  agents,  the  gift  of  omnipotence  ;  in 
no  case  has  he  the  power  to  destroy  a  soul  without  that  soul's 
consent. 


FEB.  i,  i886.]  THE    LYCEUM   FAUST.  Ci 

With  regard  to  the  second  point,  namely,  the  inappropriate- 
ness— from  a  poetic  and  dramatic  point  of  view— of 
topheles'  outburst  of  rage,  I  cannot  agree  with  the  critics.  It 
seems  to  me  to  introduce  the  one  touch  of  humanity  into  the 
character  of  Mephistopheles,  which  is  presumably,  it  may  seem, 
a  paradox  to  call  an  outburst  of  rage  a  touch  of  humanity — 
perhaps  we  should  say  of  human  nature — but  the  introduction  of 
such  a  scene  certainly  gives  the  actor  an  opportunity  which  he 
much  needs.  Whatever  may  be  said  of  the  character  of  Mephis- 
topheles, it  does  not  offer  much,  if  any,  opportunity  to  a  really 
great  actor.  The  impassiveness  to  all  human  emotion  and  the 
rather  commonplace  cynicism  of  the  part  become  monotonous 
after  a  little  time.  A  comparatively  inferior  actor  may  succeed 
as  Mephistopheles.  His  little  jokes  about  hell,  eternal  damnation, 
and  such  like  serious  subjects  are  sure  to  get  a  laugh.  There  is 
nothing  in  the  character — at  least,  as  far  as  any  dramatic 
version  of  the  story  is  concerned,  which  calls  for  any  great  quality 
on  the  part  of  the  actor.  To  compare  such  a  bloodless  shadow 
to  lago  or  Richard  the  Third  is  ridiculous. 

The  complaint  against  Mr.  Wills  and  against   Mr.   Irving  for 
daring  to  alter  Goethe's  poem  appears  to  me  very  unreasonable. 
•Goethe's   great  work  is  not  a  drama ;  in  parts  it  is  not  even  a 
dramatic  poem  ;  and,  therefore,  if  it  is  to  be  represented  on  the 
stage,  it  must  be  modified  and  altered  in  such  a  manner  as   to 
make  it  fit  for  the  stage.     I  know  that  Germans  are  said  to  be 
capable  of  sitting  out  a  representation  of  both  parts  of"  Faust,"  but 
even  in  Germany  I    believe  it  is  the  custom  to  omit  considerable 
portions  of  the  poem  when  represented  on  the  stage.     At  any  rate, 
I  fear  no  English  audience  would  be  found  to  sit  out  a  literal  trans- 
lation of  Goethe's  "  Faust."     To  mutilate  the  text  of  such  a  poem, 
when  publishing  it,  would  be  a  crime;  but  I  cannot  see  that  cither 
author  or  manager  can  be  fairly  blamed  for   introducing  what 
alterations  may  seem  to  them  to  add  to  the  dramatic  effect  of  what 
only  pretends  to  be  an  adaptation,  and  not  a  literal  version,  of 
Goethe's  "  Faust."    Shakespeare  wrote  for  the  stage  ;  and  to  alter 
materially  his    text,  or  to  change  the  catastrophes  of  his  jv 
when  preparing  them  for  stage  representation  is  certainly  an  act 
of  leze-majesty,  but  it  is  different  with  such  works  as  Goethe's 
"  Faust "  or  Byron's  "  Manfred." 

I  may  add  that,  in  Marlowe's  tragedy,  the  struggle  between  the 

F      2 


62  THE  THEATRE.  [JAN.  i,  1886. 

good  and  the  evil  angels  of  Faustus  continues  throughout  the 
play,  and  might,  if  treated  with  any  dramatic  power,  have  lent 
some  semblance  of  interest  to  that  dreary  and  tedious  work. 
The  threatening  speech  of  Mephistopheles  to  Faust,  with  which 
so  much  fault  was  found  by  the  critics,  was  very  probably 
suggested  by  the  following  passage,  which  illustrates  at  the  same 
time  the  fact  that,  according  to  Marlowe  (who  followed,  in  his 
turn,  the  old  prose  history  of  Dr.  Faustus),  the  struggle  on  the 
part  of  Faustus  to  repent  never  ceases  : — 

FAUST.— Accursed  Faustus  !  Wretch,  what  hast  thou  done  ? 
I  do  repent ;  and  yet  I  do  despair  : 
Hell  strives  with  grace  for  conquest  in  my  breast  ; 
What  shall  I  do  to  shun  the  snares  of  death  ? 

MEPH. — Thou  traitor,  Faustus,  I  arrest  thy  soul 
For  disobedience  to  my  sovereign  lord  : 
Revolt,  or  Pll  in  piece-meal  tear  thy  flesh. — QUARTO,  1616. 

The  last  line  is  very  similar  to  one  of  the  lines  in. Mr.  Wills's 
inserted  speech. 


II.— THE    LAMENESS    OF    MEPHISTOPHELES. 
BY  GODFREY  TURNER. 

A  SORT  of  challenge  may  seem  to  have  been  thrown  out  in  a 
recent  article  of  which  I  was  the  indifferent  author.  How 
is  it  that  so  temptingly  obscure  a  subject  as  the  lameness  of 
Mephistopheles  has  piqued  no  critical  essayist,  no  Hazlitt, 
Coleridge,  De  Quincey,  or  Charles  Lamb,  into  a  speculative  dis- 
quisition ?  Fearing  lest  my  gage  may  remain  unheeded,  perhaps 
spurned,  where  it  was  thrown,  I  will  even  lift  it  myself,  and  try 
what  so  weak  a  hand  may  do  to  rescue  a  strangely  neglected 
theme  from  nothingness.  Now,  I  have  already  laid  some  stress 
on  a  proposition  but  too  apt,  as  I  think,  to  elude  such  argument 
as  it  deserves.  In  admiring  the  intellectuality  of  negation,  we  lose 
sight  for  a  time — for  too  long  a  time  in  most  cases — of  its  weak- 
ness. Denial  cannot  be  the  constant  operation  of  mental  power. 
The  Mephistophelean  intellect,  exerted  with  the  sole  purpose  to 
maintain  an  everlasting  No,  is  a  monstrously  defective  intellect, 
such  as  is  wanting  altogether  in  the  reason  that  sees  a  step  beyond 
its  tangible  reach ;  that  is  capable  of  any  positive  effort  to  "  con- 
firm or  shake  or  make  a  faith." 

To  symbolise  a  preternatural  intellect  such  as  this,  there  was 


FEB.  i,  1885.]  THE   LYCEUM   PAUST.  63 

one  direct  course  for  our  simple  forefathers  to  take  ;  and  they  took 
it.     The  figure  which  presented  itself  to  their  minds  was  a  crippled 
figure.     A  fallen  spirit,  like  a  fallen  body,  must  have  sustained 
some   hurt,   and  what   hurt   more   likely  than   a  broken   limb? 
Remember,   too,   that   in   a   rougher  age  bodily  informity  was, 
oftener  than  it  now  is,  a  subject  of  derision.     Remember  Bacon's 
terrible  words,  uttered  in  the  cold  tone  of  a  logical  statement, 
regarding  deformed  persons  whom  he  judged  (quoting  Scripture 
that  nowise  helped  his  argument)  to  be  "  void  of  natural  affection ! " 
It  is  really  worth  while  to  Recall  Bacon's  own  words  here.     "  Who- 
ever hath  anything  fixed  in  his  person  that  doth  induce  contempt 
hath  also  a  perpetual  spur  in  himself  to  rescue  and  deliver  him- 
self from  scorn ;  therefore  all  deformed  persons  are  extreme  bold. 
First,  as  in  their  own  defence,  as  being  exposed  to  scorn,  but  in 
process  of  time  by  a  general  habit."     This  was  a  relic  of  medi- 
aevalism  that  lingered  in  the  learned  Elizabethan  days,  when  courts 
and  lordly  dwellings  had  still  their  dwarfs,  to  mock  or  to  pamper, 
as  the  princely  mood  might  impel.     A  club-foot  was  only  a  few 
degrees  less  ridiculous  than  a  crook-back,  in  those  grim  saturnine 
times.     It  is  in  a  slighting  or  contemptuous  tone,  no  doubt,  that 
the  sot  in  Auerbach's  cellar,  looking  askance  at  Mephisto,  asks 
why  the  fellow  limps  on  one  foot. 

The  name  itself  has  been   to  many  scholars  a  confusion  and 
a  mystery.     By  some  etymologists  it  is  thought  to  be  derivable  from 
a  Semitic  tongue,  and  this  piece  of  guess-work  is  touched  upon, 
without  elucidation,  in  Goethe's  correspondence  with  Zelter.     By 
Widman  it  is  said  to  be  a  Persian  name.     Enquiry  should  end  with 
Shakespeare's  spelling,  "  Mephostophilus,"  which  occurs  in  "  The 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor."     Falstaif  s  gang,  whom  Slender  has 
accused,  collectively  and  individually,  of  theft,  are  blustering  in 
their  choice  mock-heroic  jargon,  and  Antient  Pistol  ludicrously 
addresses  the  poor  bewildered  Gloucestershire  gentleman  by  that 
outlandish  term,  as  one  of  objurgation,  without  knowing  more 
about  it  than  the  incensed  fish-fag  knew  when  she  was  called  first 
a    rhomboid,  and  immediately  afterwards  an  isosceles  triangle. 
Or,  if  the  Antient  were  conscious  of  any  relevancy  in  the  name,  he 
may  have  applied  it,  as  that  of  a  weak-limbed  character  in  a  puppet- 
show,  to  the  shamefully  abused  Master  Abram.     Indeed,  a  certain 
shambling   awkwardness   in   the   gait   of  this  innocent  is  easily 
imaginable.       "Mephostophilus,"   therefore,   might   have    some 


64  THE     THEATRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886. 

vague  applicability,  in  addition  to  being  a  good,  round  mouthful 
of  a  word,  calculated  to  overawe  poor  Slender,  already  much  con- 
fused in  his  evidence  against  the  three  rogues  who  took  him  to  a 
tavern,  made  him  drunk,  and  afterwards  picked  his  pocket.  When 
called  to  account,  they  pile  up  all  the  bombastic  and  absurd 
epithets  they  can  think  of,  till  their  accuser  says:  "  Ay,  you  spake 
in  Latin  then  too  ;  but  'tis  no  matter." 

Etymological  inquiry,  I  repeat,  should  end  with  Shakespearian 
orthography.  So  long  as  the  modern  spelling  of  "  Mephisto- 
pheles  "  is  our  blind  guide,  we  may  be  led  with  Widman  and  the 
rest  into  all  manner  of  vain  imaginings.  There  is  really  no 
making  anything  out  of  "  Mephistopheles."  It  is  Greek  to  those 
who  know  not  Greek,  and  it  is  no  Greek  to  those  who  do.  But 
if  Antient  Pistol,  who  mouthed  many  big  and  learned  words,  had  but 
known  the  fact,  he  possessed  an  easy-fitting  key  to  the  puzzle.  The 
word  put  into  his  mouth  by  Shakespeare  is  the  right  word,  rightly 
spelt  on  the  page  that  conjures  up  to  us  the  interior  of  the  Garter 
Inn,  at  Windsor,  in  the  time  of  Henry  the  Fourth.  "  Mephosto- 
philus,"  the  old  spelling,  tells  the  meaning  of  the  name  at  once. 
Shakespeare's  "less  Greek"  told  him,  with  his  fine  "instinct 
of  learning,"  that  he  had  got  hold  of  a  piece  of  genuine  ortho- 
graphy, and  thence  of  genuine  etymology.  Me-phosto-philus,  if 
not  actual  Greek,  is  surely  Greek  enough  to  suggest  Not-light- 
loving  ;  and  if  it  were  possible  to  reinstate  the  mediaeval  formation 
of  a  name  altered  in  later  ages,  and  sanctified  even  in  error  by 
the  genius  of  Goethe,  we  should  be  enabled  to  recognise  by  a  most 
apposite  name  the  Fiend  of  Darkness  and  the  Enemy  of  Light. 

The  lameness  of  "  Mephistopheles,"  in  times  when  a  powerful 
Church  made  its  influence  felt  in  many  ways — not  the  least  of 
which,  by  any  means,  was  the  stage — had  a  distinct  value,  as 
correcting  and  balancing  such  too  respectful  awe  as  the  Tempter 
might  otherwise  have  inspired  in  ignorant  minds.  "  His  wiles,  his 
subtility,  his  perseverance,  his  versatility,  his  modes  and  habits  of 
action,  his  influence,  his  faculty  of  assuming  and  inspiring  the  idea 
of  his  attractiveness  and  his  friendships  towards  his  intended 
victims,"  all  which  powerful  qualities  and  characteristics  are 
forcibly  summed  up  by  an  eminent  churchman,  writing  in  our 
own  epoch,  on  the  nature  and  veritable  existence  of  the  Fiend, 
"not  as  a  principle  but  as  a  person,"  almost  demanded  on  the 
part  of  a  dogmatic  priesthood  some  encouragement  to  resistance 


FEB.  i,  i886.]  THE   LYCEUM   FAUST.  65 

that  should  be  easily  "understanded  by  the  people."  Hence,  I  i 
ventured  to  suppose,  sprang  the  simple  foot. 

Giles  and  Hodge  would  not  fail  to  see,  in  the  miracle-play,  that 
the  crafty  and  seductive  Mephisto  was  after  all  little  better—that 
is  stronger — than  lame  Tom,  the  village  butt,  for  whom  a!i 
strong  lads,  who  could  run  and  jump  and  wrestle,  had  the  supreme 
contempt  which  is  the  inalienable  right  of  muscle  over  mere  bi 
Intellect,  and  an  active  set  of  limbs  together,  would,  to  be  Bi 
Giles  and  Hodge  at  a  very  decided  advantage;  but  to  their  bucolic 
minds  a  being  incapable  of  jumping  a  five-barred  gate  can  hardly 
be  accounted  clever.     Of  all  the  gods,  Vulcan  must  have  been 
in  least  esteem  by  the  swains  of  ancient  Greece.      It  was  not  so 
much  that  he  had  been  kicked  out  of  Heaven,  but  to  have  broken 
his  leg  in  the  fall  was  too  ridiculous.     A  deity  with  a  club-foot, 
and  liable  to  be  saluted  by  vulgar  little  Lemnians  with  the  cry, 
"Hullo,  there!   Chalaipoda !"  could  hardly  look  for  unqua! 
praise  outside  his  own  temple,  if  in  it. 

A  lamer  devil  than  Mephistopheles  is  the  esprit  follc,  the 
ridiculer  rather  than  the  scoffer  and  denier,  the  patron  of  man- 
kind's vices  without  much  regard  to  their  crimes,  the  teaser  not 
the  tormentor,  the  playful  disturber  of  society,  seeking  not  to 
overthrow  it,  malicious  rather  than  malignant — Asmodeus.  He 
is  the  "  Diable  Boiteux  "  of  Le  Sage,  who  would  seem  to  have 
had  some  such  fondness  for  him  as  Thackeray  is  thought  to  have 
had  for  Becky  Sharp,  so  that  at  times  the  author's  truthful  hand, 
relenting,  made  the  wicked  creature  almost  amiable.  I  am  not 
sure  that  our  ancestors,  unless  more  than  commonly  well  posted- 
up  in  their  demonology,  distinguished  clearly  between  Asmodeus 
and  Mephistopheles.  Each  of  the  two  evil  spirits  took  in  hand  a 
scholar  and  showed  him  how  many  more  things  there  are,  on  earth 
at  least,  than  philosophy  teaches.  The  cloak  of  Asmodeus  which 
bore  up  the  proud  young  Spaniard,  Don  Cleofas,  was  even  as 
mantle  which  Mephistopheles  bade  the  learned  sensualist, 
Faust,  grasp  with  a  firm  hand.  The  colder,  more  relentless 
fiend,  Mephisto,  endowed  by  the  old  English  dramatist,  Cl 
topher  Marlowe,  with  an  awful  melancholy,  which  Hallam  deemed 
more  expressive  than  the  malignant  mirth  infused  by  Goethe  into 
the  character,  was  a  more  jocular  personage  in  the  older  legends 
and  puppet-plays.  As  the  familiar  spirit  of  the  great  magician, 
Dr.  Faustus,  he  played  many  pranks  which,  on  the  modern  stage, 


66  THE     THEATRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886. 

would  come  under  the  designation  "  clowning."  But  as  we  now 
understand  Mephisto,  he  stands  higher  than  Asmodeus  and  lower 
than  Lucifer ;  as  mockery  is  more  than  ridicule  and  less  than 
pride.  Lucifer  has  no  deformity,  however  slight,  nor  is  the  name 
infernal  or  profane.  He  was  the  light-bringer,  son  of  the 
morning,  a  fallen  star,  indeed,  but  yet  a  star — once  the  pale,  pure 
herald  of  daylight,  now  the  demon  of  darkness,  the  bad  genius  of 
man,  and  the  defier  of  God.  Mephistopheles  does  not  defy  God  ; 
lie  denies  the  goodness  of  God's  works.  Nothing  finer — nothing 
more  to  the  purpose  of  proving  that  the  rough  old  plays,  dumb- 
show  and  mummery,  if  you  like,  had  a  motive  in  making  Mephis- 
topheles lame — can  I  find  than  these  words  of  Thomas  Carlyle  : — 
"  Mephistopheles  comes  before  us,  not  arrayed  in  the  terrors  of 
Cocytus  and  Phlegethon,  but  with  natural  indelible  deformity  of 
wickedness.  He  is  the  Devil,  not  of  superstition,  but  of  know- 
ledge. Such  a  combination  of  perfect  understanding  with  perfect 
selfishness,  of  logical  life  with  moral  death,  so  universal  a  denier 
both  in  heart  and  head,  is  undoubtedly  a  child  of  Darkness,  an 
emissary  of  the  primeval  Nothing,  and  may  stand  in  his  merely 
spiritual  deformity,  at  once  potent,  dangerous,  and  contemptible, 
as  the  best  and  only  genuine  Devil  of  these  latter  times."  Need 
we  then  cudgel  our  dull  brains  further  to  find  why  it  was  that  the 
old  mummers,  from  whose  traditions  Goethe  drew  the  inspiration 
of  his  wonderful  poem,  made  Mephistopheles  "  halt  a  little  on  one 
foot "  ? 


ED  ,,  1886.]  SHOUTS    WITHOUT.  67 


"  Shouts  Without." 

BY  CHAS.  H.  Ross. 

"\  "\  7HEN  I  say  that  things  were  bad  with  that  ill-fated,  or, 
f  *       perhaps,  I  had  better  call  it  ill-starred,  little  company,  I 
can  hope  to  convey  but  a  faint  notion  of  how  things  were. 

I  had  not  the  smallest  monetary  interest  in  them  or  their  doings, 
nor  any  locus  standi,  as  the  broker's  man  put  it,  in  the  theatre,  or 
was  there  any  earthly  motive,  feminine  or  otherwise,  to  prompt 
me  to  mix  myself  up  in  that  company's  affairs,  and  yet,  for  some 
reason  or  other,  I  gradually  found  myself  one  of  them ;  a  sort  of 
auxiliary  force  employed  by  turns  in  scene-painting,  promp 
adapting,  checktaking,  going  on  to  fill  vacancies,  apologising  even 
in  front  of  the  curtain  for  the  absence  of  the  orchestra,  and  such 
other  trifling  mischances  as  befel  them,  and  lending  a  hand  with 
the  bill  delivery. 

I  had  gone  out  of  town  for  a  holiday,  and  chanced  on  Windibank 
and  his  chosen  band  in  a  dreary  little  town,  at  the  station  of  which 
I  alighted  by  mistake,  thus  losing  my  last  train  on  to  my  destina- 
tion that  night. 

I  inquired  for  the  best  hotel,  and  went  there,  bag  in  hand, 
and  during  dinner  I  asked  the  waiter,  one  of  the  solemnest  of  men, 
whether  there  happened  to  be  any  amusements  in  the  town.  He 
knew  of  none.  I  seemed  to  be  the  only  person  staying  at  that 
dreary  hostelry.  A  couple  of  gas-burners  illuminated  my  worrisome 
journey  through  a  hard  steak.  The  rest  of  the  apartment  was 
gloom  and  mystery.  When  my  funereal  attendant  brought  me 
some  coffee  and  brandy  he  said  they  had  told  him  at  the  bar  there 
was  a  theatre,  but  that  the  people  had  not  left  a  bill,  and  he  could 
not  learn  whether  or  not  it  was  open.  He  added,  however,  that 
if  it  were  he  didn't  suppose  it  was  up  to  much.  On  this,  I 
straightway  determined  to  find  it  out,  and,  if  open,  to  see  the 
play. 

I  instinctively  felt  it  must  be  afar  off.     I  cautiously  instituted 


68  THE    THEATRE.  [FEE  i,  1886. 

inquiries.  I  was  right  about  distance,  but  the  flyman  I  hired  shed 
a  roseate  gleam  on  things  by  saying,  "  It  was,  anyhow,  open  last 
night."  He  had  "  noticed  it  was  passing  by."  The  stoppage  of 
the  fly  in  front  of  the  dimly-lighted  portal  broke  the  solemn  silence 
of  the  dark  street.  The  lady  in  charge  of  the  pay  place  came  out  of 
what  I  learnt  afterwards  was  called  the  TREASURY,  and  occupied 
the  pigeon-hole.  I  asked  the  prices  of  admission,  and  finding  half- 
a-crown  meant  a  stage-box  all  to  myself  I  paid  my  money,  and 
was  stage-boxed.  There  were  no  programmes,  no  bills  of  any  sort 
except  two  outside  the  door.  I  forgot  to  ask  what  play  it  was. 
I  always  afterwards  forgot  to  ask.  I  don't  even  know  now. 
After  the  play,  I.  met  at  the  nearest  tavern,  the  low  comedian 
and  the  heavy  man.  The  latter  interested  me  not  a  little.  He 
was  a  good-looking,  well-built  fellow.  He  had  acted  cleverly  ;  he 
spoke  well.  The  heroine  he  had  been  relentlessly  persecuting  all 
night  was  his  wife.  She  would  be  waiting,  he  said,  if  he  stopped 
longer,  and  he  buttoned  his  coat  across  his  breast. 

"  Ah  !  "  he  said,  "  if  I  could  get  a  show  in  London  ;  but  there's 
no  chance.  Who  would  ev?r  think  of  coming  to  this  dead-alive 
hole  to  look  for  talent.  You  noticed  her,  I  think,  sir." 

We  shook  hands  as  he  went  out,  and  he  nervously  squeezed  mine 
with  a  look  as  of  entreaty  in  his  eyes  to  which  the  tears  seemed 
to  brim  up  and  subside  again  as  he  coughed  shortly. 

I  was  rather  surprised  the  next  day,  in  the  lonely  smoking-room, 
at  being  beamed  on  by  an  affable,  if  somewhat  seedy,  stranger, 
who  said  he  had  noticed  me  over  night  at  the  theatre.  Mine  was 
the  only  private  box  occupied,  and  I  and  a  handful  of  industrious 
nut-crackers,  who  dropped  down  and  threw  up  shells  at  one  another 
from  the  pit  and  gallery,  had  constituted  the  audience.  The  stranger 
gave  me  his  card,  and  said  perhaps  I  might  have  heard  of  him  ; 
he  was  Windibank.  Under  such  circumstances,  naturally,  I 
always  tell  a  lie.  I  said,  "  Of  course,"  and  we  soon  were  on  friendly 
terms.  He  was  the  manager  of  the  company. 

They  had  not  been  doing  very  good  business  so  far,  but  a  time 
would  come.  He  had  been  scandalously  treated  by  the  "  stars  "  he 
had  engaged,  and  by  his  agents.  If  he  could  but  weather  the 
storm  for  another  week  all  would  be  well.  A  perfect  constellation 
had  been  securely  booked  for  the  future.  I  must  have  been  very 
blind,  indeed,  not  to  understand  what  my  friend  meant,  but  I  made 
no  promises,  though  I  determined  to  stay  a  day  or  two  and  see  what 


FEB.  i,  1886.]  SHOUTS    WITHOUT.  69 

would  happen.  No  stars  happened,  anyhow.  I  observed,  too, 
that  my  friend  Windibank's  statements  were  strangely  mixed.  There 
was  so  small  an  amount  of  jingle  in  the  TREASURY  when  first 
return  time  came  round  I  could  not  help  thinking  my  nightly  contri- 
bution did  not  come  amiss.  Later  on,  in  the  TREASURY,  there 
were  some  deep-toned  grumblings,  and  now  and  again,  the  raising 
of  voices.  I  began  to  think  things  were  reaching  an  end,  and  so 
they  would  have  done  but  for  "Shouts  Without." 

He  was  a  tall,  thin  young  man  in  a  fur-collared  coat,  carr. 
in  one  hand  a  tin  dressing-box,  which  might  have  been  a  cash  box 
(I  think  Windibank  hoped  it  was)  or  a  dressing-case,  or  a 
"  make-up  box."  It  proved  to  be  the  last-named,  and  the  singing 
chambermaid  right  off  dubbed  it  his  "  eyebrow  box."  She  was  a 
rather  witty  girl.  We  were  sitting  in  the  Treasury,  and  I  had  just 
given  Windibank  a  cigar,  which  he  was  moodily  chewing  the  end 
of. 

"  I  can't  keep  this  game  up  much  longer,"  was  his  last  remark. 
"  I've  dropped  enough  over  it  as  it  is.  It's  someone  else's  turn 
now." 

And  I  was  just  thinking  to  myself  that  from  what  I  had  heard  it 
wasn't  only  Windibank's  money  that  had  gone  wrong  in  this  disas- 
trous undertaking,  when  the  door  opened,  and  in  strode  the 
Shouter. 

"  I  have  come,"  said  he,  in  quite  a  haughty  tone,  "  to  ask  for  an 
engagement,  and  to  offer  my  services." 

"  What  can  you  do  ? "  asked  Windibank,  after  a  pause  of 
astonishment. 

The  young  man  smiled  blandly. 

"Anything"  he  replied,  with  confidence. 

"  What  have  you  ever  done  ?  " 

"Nothing"  replied  he,  with  a  still  blander  smile,  as  he  opened 
the  lid  of  the  tin  box,  and  displayed  its  contents.     "  But,  you  sec 
I  am  prepared." 

He  certainly  seemed  to  be,  as  far  as  make-up  was  concerned. 
There,  sure  enough,  were  the  mongolian,  the  prepared  whiting 
the  rouge,  the  grenadine,  the  hair  powder,  thefard  Indienand  vein 
blue,  and  the  rest  of  it.  There  were  pencils  and  brushes  of  all 
sizes,  hare  feet,  and  a  big  packet  of  burnt  cork.  Seemingly,  he  was 
even  prepared  for  nigger  business,  if  called  on. 

"  When  we  have  arranged  the  terms,  and  settled  on  the  rCU  in 


70  THE    THE  A  TRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886. 

which  I  am  to  make  my  debut,  perhaps,  you  gentlemen,  will  crack 
a  bottle  with  me  at  the  tavern  opposite." 

Windibank  leant  back,  and  rubbed  his  chin.  He  looked  again 
inside  the  tin  box,  and  then  inside  the  cashless  safe,  wherein  a 
score  of  unpaid  bills  lay,  neatly  docketted,  and  he  ran  his  eye  over 
the  young  man's  wardrobe,  lingering  longest  on  a  massive  watch 
chain,  and  then,  rising,  said  : 

"  We'll  talk  business  over  the  wine." 

The  business  thus  talked  was  somewhat  remarkable  as  far  as 
my  experience  went.  With  pleasing  candour,  Windibank  allowed 
that  he  had  not  money  enough  to  pay  even  half  salaries  to  those 
he  already  employed,  and  no  desire  without  fresh  capital  were 
brought  into  the  concern  to  incur  further  risk.  What  was  wanted 
was  new  blood — an  attraction,  someone  to  take  the  town  by 
storm,  a  new  name  in  the  bill. 

"My  name,"  said  our  host,  with  the  air  of  a  John  Kemble> 
"  is  Pegg.  I  am  your  man  !  " 

There  was  a  momentary  pause,  during  which  I,  for  one, 
struggled  desperately  to  keep  my  countenance,  and  finding  that 
impossible,  strolled  through  an  open  window  into  the  garden,  and 
when  out  of  sight,  leant  against  a  wall,  and  as  nearly  choked  as 
possible.  Two  or  three  minutes  later,  as  soon  as  I  dared  risk 
facing  Pegg  again,  I  returned,  to  find  a  most  astonishing  ac- 
in  progress.  Pegg,  by  name,  was  helping  Windibank  on  with  the 
fur-collared  coat. 

"  Mr.  Pegg  has  been  explaining  to  me,"  said  Windibank,  ''that 
he  will  supply  such  funds  as  are  necessary.  Mr.  Pegg  is  determined 
to  do  the  thing  well.  Here's  a  mem.  for  Brown  (the  heavy  man) 
as  to  next  week's  bills.  Mr.  Pegg  has  given  me  a  draft  on  his 
uncle,  Mr.  Dolittle,  who  is  an  extremely  influential  man  at  Dodder- 
ington,  a  matter  of  twenty  miles  from  here.  I  have,  I  find,  only 
just  time  to  catch  the  train.  Good-bye,  both.  Shall  be  back  in  time 
for  the  second  return.  I'll  take  the  two,  same  time.  Good-bye  !  " 
I  looked  at  the  time-table,  and  seeing  when  the  train  would 
return  from  Dodderington  to  Dryboneborough  (our  place)  waited 
on  the  platform.  Windibank  came  by  it  sure  enough. 

"  Let's  have  a  drink,"  was  his  first  greeting,  and  we  had  one. 
"  Well !  "  I  said  inquiringly.     "  How  about  Pegg's  uncle  ?  " 
"  Damn  Pegg's  uncle,"  said  Windibank,  with  emphasis.     "And 
damn  Pegg.     Was  there  any  money  in  to-night,  do  you  know  ?  " 


FEB.  i,  i586.]  SHOUTS     WITHOUT. 

11  First  return  one,  two,  six.  But,  I  say,  you've  left  Peggfs  coat 
in  the  carriage.  The  train's  still  waiting." 

"  Damn  Pegg's  coat,"  said  \Viiulibank.  "  I  left  it  at  Doddering- 
ton  with  Pegg's  Uncle."  Then,  changing  his  tone  for  a  light  and 
airy  one.  "  Have  you  a  sov.  about  you  ?  You  can  repay  yourself 
from  the  Treasury.  Here's  an  I  O  U." 

I  gave  him  the  money,  and  almost  at   the  same  moment 
guard  shouted,  "  Any  more  for  the  last  up-tra: 

Without  another  instant's  delay  Windibank  darted  into  a 
carriage,  waved  his  hand  to  me,  and  was  borne  away.  I  paid  for 
the  liqours  which  possibly  he  had  forgotten  to  do,  and  began 
to  feel  remarkably  uncomfortable.  The  only  thing  for  me 
to  do  was  to  go  down  to  the  theatre  and  tell  Pegg  and  the 
company  all  I  knew,  even  if  I  did  not  add  all  I  suspected. 
What  I  couldn't  make  my  mind  up  about,  though,  was  whether 
Windibank  nad  got  Pegg's  draft  cashed.  I  searched 
county  directory  at  my  hotel,  and  found  that  the  only  Dolittle 
in  Dodderington  mentioned  there  was  a  pawnbroker. 

When  I  reached  the  theatre  I  met  a  row  of  long  faces.      It 
a  Saturday  night — their  best  night — and  the  second  return 
four  shillings.     I  Chewed  Windibank's  mem.,  and  put  it  back  again 
into  my  pocket.      I  thought  there  were  others  wanted  the  money 
more  than  I  did. 


From  that  day,  for  one  week,  a  kind  of  commonwealth 
established.     The  onerous  duties  of  treasurer  of  the  empty  saft 
offered  to  me,  but,  I  trust  with  becoming  courteousness,  declined. 
I  said  I  was  bad  at  figures. 

The  question  then  arose,  what  was  the  bill  to  be  on  Mom! 
and  the  consultation  was  cut  short  by  the  printer  calling  with 
his  account,  and  added  that  he  had  not  executed  Windibank's  last 
order.  On  this  Pegg  came,  for  the  first  time,  on  the  scene,  and 
announced  himself  to  be  responsible  for  past  and  future,  and,  pend- 
ing the  return  of  Windibank,  insisted  on  depositing  his  watch 
and  chain  in  the  printer's  hands.  This  proceeding  necessitated 
my  leading  Pegg  aside,  and  telling  him  not  only  what  I  knew  but 
what  I  suspected. 

I  mean  I  thought  this  course  necessary,  but  was  not  a  little  sur- 
prised by  Pegg  taking  it  all  quite  coolly,  and,  with  the  observa- 


72  THE    THEATRE.  [FEB.  x,  1886. 

tion,  "  Uncle's  an  oddish  sort  of  man  ;  he  always  says  '  No  '  first," 
dashed  into  the  question  of  what  play  it  was  to  be. 

Pegg  thought  "  Don  Caesar  de  Bazan,"  and  that  he  was  to  be 
the  Don.  Unfortunately,  however,  on  inquiry,  none  of  the  com- 
pany had  ever  taken  a  part  in  that  piece,  and  nobody  had  a  book ; 
not  even  Pegg,  who  also  owned  up  to  being  a  bit  vague  as  to 
general  details  (he  never,  as  well  as  I  could  follow,  spoke  of  the 
mere  words),  so  it  was  decided  to  play  a  mysterious  piece,  called 
"  Hounded  Down  ;  or,  The  Shadow  of  Crime,"  which,  later  on,  I 
learnt  was  a  pirated  version  of  our  old  friend,  "The  Ticket  of 
Leave  Man,"  and  he  was  to  be  Bob  Brierly. 

At  this  point  I  suggested  that  I  felt  as  if  I  should  like  to  stand 
an  all-round  supper  (for  which,  a  while  before,  I  had  sent  an  order 
to  a  friendly  hostelry  adjacent),  and  so  we  supped  ;  and  next  day 
a  telegram  fetched  me  back  to  town  in  a  great  hurry.  Not  until 
a  week  later  almost  was  I  able  to  return,  but,  throughout  that 
time,  I  had  been  devoured  by  an  overwhelming  curiosity  with 
respect  to  the  fate  of  the  Dodderington  survivors.  I  came  back 
to  chaos  and  anarchy. 

The  theatre  was  still  open.  The  gas  still  spluttered.  The  nut- 
crackers, fewer  in  number,  but  stronger  of  jaw,  occupied  such 
seats  as  were  sat  on,  with  others  for  the  support  of  their  lower 
limbs.  Things  really  and  truly  were  bad.  Orders  had  been  sown 
broadcast,  but  they  came  not  back.  Anon,  I  met  with  one  in 
pipe-light  form  at  the  friendly  tavern. 

The  Pegg  no  longer  supported  the  tottering  edifice.  Rage  and 
fury  possessed  him.  In  an  ill-advised  moment  the  low  comedian 
had  visited  the  printer's  office,  and,  finding  in  a  rough  proof  of  the 
"bill  no  mention  whatever  of  the  character  of  Bob  Brierly  or  its 
exponent  (Pegg),  and  feeling  that  Pegg's  name  should  really  appear 
somewhere  or  other,  added,  in  a  feigned  hand  at  end  of  cast, 
"  Shouts  without,  Mr.  Pegg  !  "  Why  did  he  do  this  ?  No  one 
knows ;  or  what  fell  influence  prompted  a  local  wag,  who  came 
across  the  same  proof  a  short  time  afterwards,  and,  reading  the 
line,  corrected  it  to  "  Grunts  without,  Mr.  Pig !  " 

Pig,  otherwise  Pegg,  realising  this  infamy  for  the  first  time  on 
the  theatre  door,  was,  as  reported,  "terrible  to  behold."  He 
had,  according  to  accounts  there  and  then  (in  the  Treasury), 
shaken  the  dust  from  his  feet  and  had  refused  to  go  on.  The  way 
the  parts  were  doubled  in  that  drama  that  night  I  never  yet  have 


FEB.  i,  i886]  SHOUTS    WITHOUT. 

been  able  to  reconcile  with  any  aproximation  to  plot,  unless 
they  cut  Mrs.  Willoughby,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Green  Jones,  the  Navvies, 
Hawkshaw,  and  the  Tiger,or  the  Singing  Chambermaid  played 

three  or  four  of  them  in  the  same  dress. 

***•«. 

I  ask  myself  now,  long  years  after  these  events,  who  and  what 
was  Pcgg  ?  Bit  by  bit  I  picked  up  certain  information  concerning 
him.  Happily,  Windibank  never  did  land  Pegg's  uncle,  but 
appeared  to  have  been  received  with  almost  exceptional  rudeness. 
Pegg's  uncle  was  a  pawnbroker,  and  with  him  Windibank  pledged 
Pegg's  coat  for  six  shillings.  Pegg's  watch  was  aluminium  and 
his  albert  chain  brass.  Pegg  proposed  marriage  to,  and  was 
accepted  by,  the  Singing  Chambermaid,  and  he  paid  the  pre- 
liminary fees  at  the  Registrar's  before  he  suddenly  disappeared. 
To  this  day,  however,  if  I  am  creditably  informed,  the  famous 
make-up  box  is  in  her  safe  keeping.  I  wonder  sometimes 

whether  Pegg  was  madder  than  most  of  us. 

****•• 

"  Talking  of  dying  higher  up,"  an  old  actor  said  to  me  one 
day,  "  there  was  a  fool  of  a  fellow — a  super — once  at  a  theatre  I 
was  at,  where  we  were  playing  a  battle-scene,  on  which  the  act. 
drop  fell,  and  three  nights  running  that  beggar  persisted  in  dying 
with  his  legs  over  the  line  and  having  to  be  dragged  back.  The 
stage  manager  got  awfully  mad  and,  when  the  curtain  fell  the 
third  night,  and  the  rest  had  got  up  on  their  feet  seeing  the  chap 
still  lying  there,  he  gave  him  a  pretty  sharp  kick.  But  he  didn't 
get  up  for  that,  and  when  a  carpenter  turned  him  over,  they 
found  he  had  died  in  earnest.  His  name  was  Pegg !  " 


74  THE   THEATRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886. 


The  Duties  of  an  Audience. 

BY  ETHEL  COXON. 

IF  ever  there  should  be  framed  in  this  country  a  Catechism  of 
Art  Doctrine,  the  theory  and  practice  thereof,  one  chapter 
which  would  surely  be  largely  appreciated  by  the  general  public 
would  be  that  on  the  duties  of  an  artist  towards  his  neighbour — 
z>.,  that  same  public.  But  the  good  public  would  feel  small  need  of 
a  corresponding  chapter  on  its  own  duties  to  the  artist,  whose  work 
it  yet  profits  by  far  more  fully  than  the  latter  can  do  by  its 
recognition. 

Certes,  when  Keats  dies,  having  concentrated  the  passion  and 
perfume  of  his  nature  into  that  cup  of  "  the  true,  the  blushful  Hippc- 
crene,"  which  he  offered  to  lips  unworthy  so  divine  a  draught,  we 
turn  in  sudden  rage  to  curse  the  brutal  hand  that  dashed  the  chalice 
aside  as  a  thing  of  no  worth  ;  but  the  true  critical  spirit  which 
bids  the  self-appointed  judge  stay  his  sentence  till  he  has  proved 
how  and  why  such  a  man's  work  be  good  or  bad,  is  still  rare.  The 
English  public  makes  up  for  the  want  of  a  recognised  critical  au- 
thority, like  the  French  Academy,  by  being  its  own  censor ;  and,  as 
a  body,  its  incapacity  to  treat  Art  seriously,  is  only  equalled  by  its- 
sheep-like  docility  in  following  any  leader,  who  will  but  assert  with 
sufficient  loudness  and  lack  of  proof 

"  I  am  Sir  Oracle 
And  when  I  ope  my  mouth,  let  no  dog  bark." 

True,  things  have  mended  of  late  years  ;  we  do  recognise 
that  though  any  human  being's  honestly-expressed  opinion  has  its 
weight,  still  "  I  don't  like  it,"  or  the  reverse  assertion,  is  not  the 
conclusion  of  the  whole  matter  in  regard  to  the  value  of  works  of 
Art.  The  gist  of  Blake's  profound,  half-true  couplet 

"  Nor  is  it  possible  for  thought 
A  greater  than  itself  to  know." 

is  accepted  as  a  possibility,  and  we  do  sometimes  feel  there  may  be 
things  above  and   beyond  us,  which  we  can  best  divine,  not  by 


FEB.  i,  1886.]      THE  DUTIES   OF  AN  AUDIENCE.  75 

striving  to  possess  them,  but  by  letting  them  possess  us.  If  we 
express  distaste  to  a  book,  or  admiration  of  it,  we  recognise  a  certain 
obligation  to  unmuzzle  our  wisdom  and  give  a  reason,  good  or  bad, 
for  our  opinion.  Our  praise  or  blame  of  a  picture  is  influenced  by 
our  knowledge  of  its  actual  merits,  even  though  they  may  not 
appeal  to  us  ;  but  in  the  matter  of  dramatic  criticism,  we  still  remain 
magnificently  one-sided  and  autocratic. 

We  talk  about  the  player's  art  a  great  deal — too  much,  indeed, 
as  many  actors,  weary  of  the  turning  of  the  whole  of  society  into 
one  vast  green-room  would  be  the  first  to  agree — we  rush  to  see 
every  new  play  ;  we  discuss  the  private  characters  and  lives  of  the 
performers,  in  which  we  have  no  possible  concern  ;  we,  perhaps, 
consider  ourselves  more  interested  in  the  drama  than  in  any  other 
art ;  yet  there  is  none  in  regard  to  which  our  shortcomings  are  more 
obvious. 

And  the  reason  is  not  far  to  seek ;  our  immediate  duty  to  the  player 
is  nearer  than  is  that  which  we  owe  to  other  artists.  The  poet  may  sing, 
the  sculptor  chisel,  and  the  work  we  reject  may  appeal  to  other  ages 
and  in  the  far  future  be  crowned  as  very  good,  or  die  into  oblivion 
Time  tries  all  art — except  the  actor's.  Gibber's  pretty  and  pathetic 
lament  of  the  pity  'tis,  that  the  grace  and  power  of  an  actor  must 
fade  and  be  forgotten,  or  only  live  in  the  faint  and  imperfect 
memory  of  a  few  spectators,  De  Musset's  more  passionate  echo  of 
the  same  note  in  the  wonderful  verses  to  Malibran,  express  what 
we  have  most  of  us  felt  when  leaving  a  theatre,  where  we  have  been 
thrilled  by  mighty  or  lovely  acting.  The  actor  must  receive  his 
recognition  in  the  present,  or  he  will  never  receive  it  at  all. 

And  this  recognition  is  as  the  breath  of  his  nostrils,  without  it 
his  art  can  have  no  life.  The  painter  or  musician  may  find  the  joy 
of  their  work  alone  sufficient  to  them — its  own  exceeding  great 
reward  ;  the  actor  cannot  do  so.  The  audience,  tl  who  sit  fresh 
chapletted  to  listen  "  to  the  poet  or  composer,  are  fit  but  few,  in 
comparison  to  the  wider  and  more  diverse  circles  unto  which  the 
acted  drama  appeals.  A  fondness  for  thcatrcgoing  by  no  me 
implies  intellectual  ardour  or  capacity  in  man  or  woman,  and  one. 
of  the  actor's  greatest  snares  lies  in  this  very  popularity  of  his  art  ; 
this  fact  of  its  appealing  not  only  to  the  most  thoughtful  and  the  r 
cultured,  but  to  the  most  frivolous.  It  is  so  easy  to  act  down  to 
the  popular  level,  so  difficult  to  gain  appreciation  of  earnest,  con- 
sistent, individual  work. 

NEW   SERIES. — VOL.JVlI. 


76  THE    THEATRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886. 

Sir  Godfrey  Knellcr's  "  Praise  me,  Sir,  praise  me  ;  how  can  I 
paint  your  portrait  ifyou  don't  ?  "  but  faintly  reflects  the  necessity  to 
the  actor  that  the  audience  shall  be  receptive  to  his  magnetism 
ere  it  can  hold  them  and  return  to  him,  in  a  three-fold  cord,  which 
is  not  quickly  broken.  Pace  Diderot,  the  player's  nerves  must  be 
more  or  less  in  a  high-strung  hypersensitive  state,*  and  the  more 
he  is  lost  in  his  part,  the  more  one  slight  sneering  laugh  from  the 
front,  one  whisper,  more  distinct  through  the  hush  than  loudly 
spoken  words,  will  act  as  a  sudden  jar,  bringing  him  back  from  the 
world  of  the  play  to  a  confusing  sense  of  unreal  reality.  The  pre- 
sence— even  in  the  supreme  moments  of  a  drama — of  the  thronged 
faces  witnessing,  as  from  afar,  the  pain  and  passion,  the  love  and 
grief  he  renders,  is  not  only  one  of  the  recognised  conditions  of  his 
art  but  necessary  to  its  existence.  It  no  more  interferes  with  his 
sense  of  the  truth  of  the  scene  than  the  mechanical  action  of  writing 
hinders  an  author's  thought,  although  it  may  limit  and  define  it 
This  great  cloud  of  witnesses  is  as  the  all-seeing,  silent  sympathy 
of  his  own  soul,  and  the  soul  of  the  man  he  interprets  to  them,  a 
larger  self,  of  which  his  consciousness  is  half  unconscious  ;  but  let 
careless,  wandering  stares,  vague  smiles,  whispering,  and  inatten- 
tion meet  him,  instead  of  the  quiet  intentness  which  tells  the  actor 
he  holds  the  spectators  with  himself,  and  this  alter  ego  changes  into 
a  crowd  of  men  and  women  with  whom  he  has  naught  in  common, 
who  neither  understand  nor  care  for  the  passion  which  possesses  him. 
They  do  not  realise  this  man  he  shows  them,  and  so  he  ceases  to 
realise  him,  himself. 

"  The  drama's  laws  the  drama's  patrons  give, 
And  those  who  live  to  please  must  please  to  live." 

granted,  but  we  must  also  grant  Cowley's  noble  definition  of  liberty, 
"  a  people  being  governed  by  laws  which  they  have  made  themselves." 
If  playgoers  make  the  drama's  laws,  they  must  perforce  be  bound 
by  them  ;  and  actors  cannot  please  their  audience  unless  the  latter 
please  to  be  pleased.  Few  persons  would  assert  that  their  duties 
towards  the  players  and  the  play  begin  and  end  with  the  money 
paid  for  their  seafs  ;  unless,  indeed,  they  wish  to  emulate  the  two 
young  gentlemen  in  "  Sandford  and  Merton,"  who  accompanied 
Harry  and  Tommy  to  the  play.  The  scene  therein  narrated  is  very 

*See  Mr.   Dolby's  account  of  the  effect  of  Mr.    Dickens's  various  readings  on  the 
height  of  the  author's  pulse. 


FEB.  i,  1*886.]      THE  DUTIES   OF  AN  AUDIENCE.  77 

pithy  and  profitable,  and  the  description  of  how  Masters  Mash  and 
Cornpton  talked  loudly,  comparing  the  travelling  actors  with  those 
they  had  seen  in  town,  and  disparaged  the  former,  to  Harry's 
silent  indignation,  as  he  reflected  that  these  were  doing  their  best 
possible  for  their  audience's  pleasure,  is  not  entirely  without  a 
moral  even  in  these  days. 

Even  if  we  receive  but  what  we  give,  true  lovers  of  the  theatre 
will  own  that,  however  deep  may  be  their  interest  and  their  silence, 
it  is  good  measure  pressed  down  and  running  over,  which  in  return 
is  given  back  into  their  bosoms.  Such  of  us  as  have  known  "the 
.sweet  possessive  pangs  "  which  are  ours  in  those  brief  full  hours  of 
enjoyment,  leaving  their  heritage  of  delightsome  memory,  those 
moments  of  witnessing  the  passion  of  Juliet  or  the  great  and  terrible 
heart-break  of  Othello,  when,  in  sharing  the  suffering  of  those  high 
heroic  souls, 

"  We  such  clusters  had. 
As  made  us  nobly  wild,  not  mad," 

wonder  what  we  can  offer  back — how  render  our  thankfulness  for 
such  gifts  as  these? 

Not  much,  in  truth  ;  the  public  must  be  content  to  play  Diomcd 
to  the  artist's  Glaucus,  but  none  the  less  is  such  return  as  it  can 
make  his  due.  If  a  play  be  a  poor  one,  and  badly  or  carelessly  played, 
the  audience  has  a  perfect  right  to  show  its  displeasure  so  long  as  it 
does  so  in  a  justifiable  manner;  andthequickerthe  public  appreciation 
of  good  work  grows,  so   will  the  standard  as  regards  plays  and 
acting  be  raised.      The  determined,  if  silent,  rejection  of  paltry  or 
ignoble   work   is   also   one   of  the   public's   duties,  and  often  an 
ungrateful  one.     But  if  the  performance,  like  most  things  mundane, 
be  a  mixture  of  good  and  bad,  it  is  surely  a  more  pleasant  task  to 
watch  for  the  qualities  in  actors  or  piece  worthy  to  be  admired, 
than  to  condemn  the  whole  thing  as"  a  wretched,  dreary  business," 
There  are  few  of  us  who  can  put  their  fingers  on  the  very  pulse  of  the 
actor's  excellence  in  a  part,  and  show  the  centre  of  his  creation  of  a 
character,  in  a  few  pregnant  words,  as  did  Charles  Lamb ;  but 
everyone   can   take   a   little    trouble   to  understand  the   player's 
conception  of  the  man  he  plays,  and  how  far  and  by  what  means 
he    makes    it    clear,    thus    doing    him    less     scant     justice     or 
injustice,   than   by   declaring,   "  It  was  just   my   idea   of  it,"    or 
vice  versa.      Very  few  can  be  as  George  Sand's   Marquise,  who 
became  the  art  conscience  of  her  actor  lover  ;  but  when  other  parts 


78  THE     THEATRE.  [FEE:  j,  1886. 

of  the  house  echo  with  applause,  why  should  the  front  rows 
of  stalls  sit  unmoved,  unsmiling — be  their  occupants  pleased 
or  not — with  what  seems  a  cold  wonder  in  their  eyes  at  the  enthu- 
siasm of  others.  People  might  manage  to  be  seated  before  the 
curtain  rises  as  they  are  bound  in  honour,  save  in  exceptional 
cases,  not  to  rise  until  it  falls.  Such  worse  forms  of  ill-breeding 
and  of  failure  in  one's  obligations  to  the  performers  and  to  the  rest 
of  the  audience  as  whispering,  tittering,  and  behaving  in  modest 
emulation  of  Masters  Mash  and  Compton,  call  less  for  censure, 
because  generally  condemned  in  theory,  if  not  in  practice.  But  a 
word  may  be  hazarded  as  to  coughing.  Is  this  complaint,  so- 
infectious  among  a  theatrical  audience,  really  incurable  ?  There 
are  few  things  more  irritating  to  an  actor,  or  destructive  of  the 
effect  of  his  words,  than  the  barking  sound  echoed  from  the  valleys 
of  the  stalls  to  the  heights  of  the  gallery.  If  it  be  unavoidable, 
sufferers  from  it  should  keep  away  from  the  playhouse ;  but  one 
thing  is  certain — an  interested  audience  does  not  cough. 

Actors  are  usually  terribly  in  earnest ;  their  faults  with  their 
merits  spring  mostly  from  that  one  root,  while  an  audience's  shor1> 
comings  arise  from  its  being  ready  to  count  the  whole  thing  as  a 
jest.  It  is  an  after-dinner  amusement,  this  summing  up  of  life's 
story  of  joy  and  pain,  love  and  hate,  humour  and  tenderness,  false- 
hood and  truth.  We  talk  of  the  acted  drama  as  an  art,  but  till  we 
realise  it  as  an  art,  in  which  not  only  players  but  playgoers  must 
bear  their  part,  albeit  a  passive  one,  we  shall  never  feel  its  true 
significance  and  power. 


FEB.  i,- 1886.]         PROVINCIAL     I'AXTOMIMJ  79 


The   Provincial   Pantomimes. 

BY  AUSTIN    BKHKI.  . 

It  was  with  a  feeling  of  considerable  relief  that  on  a  certain 
Monday  a  week  or  two  ago  I  found  myself  at  King's  Cross 
Station,  on  the  point  of  visiting  some  half-dozen  of  our  prin 
towns  where  pantomime  still  finds  favour.  The  day  was  mild,  but 
the  air  was  heavy — full,  in  point  of  fact,  of  a  calamity  which 
•descended  a  day  or  two  later  in  the  shape  of  the  snow  fiend.  So 
I  went  upon  my  way  rejoicingly,  making  Leeds  my  first  stoppin-- 
place.  Punctually  to  the  minute,  the  excellent  express  train  of  the 
Great  Northern  Railway  drew  up  at  the  appointed  time  at  the 
Leeds  Platform.  I  must  freely  confess  that  I  am  not  particularly 
fond  of  Leeds.  Perhaps  it  is  that  the  contrast  between  Leeds 
and  London  is  too  great  for  my  tender  soul.  Whether  this  be  the 
case  or  not,  I  certainly  share  the  feelings  of  those  distinguished 
persons  alluded  to  in  Mr.  J.  Wilton  Jones's  cleverly-written 
"  book  "  of  the  pantomime  at  Mr.  Wilson  Barrett's  truly  Grand 
Theatre,  New  Briggate  : — 

"  If  Princes  ever  come  to  Leeds,  young  man, 
They  leave  the  town  as  quickly  as  they  can." 

Consequently  I  left  myself  only  bare  time  to  despatch  a  hasty 
dinner  at  the  Queen's  Hotel,  where  a  waiter  with  a  Circassian 
head  of  hair  floated  around  me  like  a  sprite,  by  way,  I  suppose,  of 
prelude  to  the  pantomime,  and,  within  an  hour  and  a  half  of  my 
arrival  in  Leeds,  I  was  snugly  ensconced  in  a  box  at  the  Grand 
Theatre,  which  was  literally  crammed  from  floor  to  ceiling. 
Presently  Mr.  J.  Sidney  Jones  (yet  another  Jones !)  took  his  seat 
in  the  orchestra,  and  after  a  lively  overture  the  curtain  ascended 
on  the  grand  Christmas  pantomime  of  "  Dick  Whittingtou 
Second;  or,  the  Cat,  the  Rat,  the  Bat,  and  the  Fairies  of  the 
Bells."  From  this  elaborate  title  it  will  be  gathered  that  Mr. 
Wilton  Jones  allows  himself  plenty  of  latitude.  He  has  succeeded 
in  providing  the  material  for  a  bustling,  merry,  and  most 


8o  THE   THE  A  TRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886, 

spirited  production,  which  contains  not  only  scenery  of  a  high 
class,  but  plenty  of  food  for  hearty  laughter  as  well.  Mr.  Stafford 
Hall's  painting  of  Highgate  Hill  is  an  excellent  piece  of  scenery,, 
and  Mr.  Lee  Anderson's  cleverly-arranged  ballet  of  elves,  which 
takes  place  in  this  scene,  is  highly  appropriate  to  it.  Mr.  Hall  is 
also  at  his  best  in  the  Emperor's  Palace,  where  a  charming 
Egyptian  dance,  also  arranged  by  Mr.  Anderson,  is  given,  while 
Mr.  Louis  Edouard  has  provided,  in  the  ship  scene,  and  in  that  of 
the  Lord  Mayor's  Show,  as  good  pictures  of  their  kind  as  have 
been  witnessed  in  London.  The  spectacular  effect  of  this  produc- 
tion is  greatly  enhanced  by  an  interesting  procession  of  the  trades 
typical  of  the  various  Yorkshire  towns,  and  a  review  of  represen-. 
tatives  of  the  troops  of  all  nations.  Dick  Whittington  is 
impersonated  by  Miss  Marie  Loftus,  a  lady  well  known  to  the 
music-hall  stage.  Miss  Loftus  is  just  the  opposite  to  the  loud, 
swaggering  music-hall  "  artist,"  who  mistakes  vulgarity  for  funy 
and  noise  for  humour.  She  is  refined  and  pleasing,  she  sings 
agreeably,  and  she  dances  very  well.  Alice  finds  a  pretty,  attractive 
representative  in  Miss  Carmen  Barker,  who  would,  however,  be 
better  suited  on  a  smaller  stage.  Mr.  Charles  E.  Stevens  is 
evidently  a  favourite  with  the  audience  as  Fitzwarren,  and  Mr. 
Austin  Melford  is  entertaining  and  inoffensive  as  the  cook.  Mr. 
J.  W.  Rowley,  as  Will  the  Waggoner,  has  a  quiet  humour  which 
is  much  appreciated,  and  Mr.  A.  Gow  Bentinck  is,  indeed,  a 
terribly  wicked  witch.  He  is  an  actor  who  knows  how  to  make 
the  best  of  a  small  part.  Not  the  least  of  the  attractions  at  the 
Leeds  Grand  is  an  individual  who  impersonates  a  frog  with 
surprising  success.  Mr.  Barrett,  it  will  thus  be  seen,  has  brought 
together  a  capital  company  for  his  pantomime,  which  has  been, 
produced  under  the  experienced  stage-management  of  Mr.  Henry 
Hastings. 

The  palm  of  pantomime  in  Edinburgh  has,  undoubtedly, 
been  carried  away  this  year  by  Mr.  H.  Cecil  Beryl's  production  at 
the  Theatre  Royal.  Mr.  Fred.  Locke,  the  author  of  the  libretto., 
has  availed  himself  of  pantomime  licence  by  including  the  story  of 
the  Babes  in  the  Wood  with  that  of  Robin  Hood  and  Maid  Marian 
in  his  "  book."  He  has  accomplished  the  task  gracefully  and 
adroitly,  mingling  the  stories  together  with  great  skill.  Opportunity 
is  thus  provided  for  plenty  of  good  acting  and  elaborate  spectacular 


FEB.  i,  1886.]        PROVINCIAL  PANTOMIMES. 

display,  advantages  of  great  moment  which  combine  to  make  as 
pleasant  a  pantomime  as  could  be  desn  i  1  lie  Babes  have  pretty 
and  intelligent  representatives  in  Miss  Katie  and  Mivs  M.ibel  Grat- 
tan,  while  that  wicked  uncle,  Sir  Carlton  Hill,  has  a  good  exponent 
in  Mr.  Richard  Waldon.  A  better  or  brighter  Robin  Hood  then  Miss 
Harriet  Laurie  has  not  been  seen.  This  young  actress  has  a  pleas- 
ing presence,  a  winning  smile,  and  a  voice  of  much  sweetness. 
She  acts,  sings,  and  dances  well,  and  is  altogether  quite  oneot 
best  burlesque  boys  I  have  seen.  Miss  Marion  Graham  as  M.ii-l 
Marian  and  Miss  Rosenthal  as  Helen  sing  most  pleasantly,  Miss 
Retta  Walton  is  animated  and  agreeable  as  Allan  a'  Dale,  Miss 
Florence  Young  is  a  capital  Will  Scarlet,  and  Miss  LesK 
a  good  "  good  fairy,"  the  only  fault  to  be  found  with  her  being 
that  she  is  altogether  too  "  plump  and  pleasing."  Fairies  should 
not  be  so.  The  peculiar  dry  humour  of  Mr.  Allen  Thomas  is  well 
suited  to  the  portrayal  of  one  of  the  ruffian  robbers,  and  he  has  a 
capital  companion  in  villainy  in  Mr.  George  T.  Minshull.  Mr. 
Robert  Courtneidge  as  the  Nurse  and  Mr.  Fred  Selby  as  Friar 
Tuck  deserve  praise,  and  the  movements  of  Mr.  Fred  Walton, 
made  up  as  a  white-faced,  red-coated  soldier  toy  figure  familiar  to 
the  days  of  childhood,  are  vastly  amusing.  Mr.  Beryl,  having 
thus  seen  to  the  acting  of  his  pantomime,  has  spared  no  expense 
in  relation  to  the  mounting  of  it.  Nothing  could  be  prettier  than 
Mr.  William  Glover's  painting  of  the  old-world  village  of  Sunny- 
dale,  with  its  delightful  rustic  ballet.  Mr.  R.  S.  Smythe's  "  Land 
of  Fancy  "  and  "  The  Forest  Fringe  "  are  excellent  examples  of 
scenic  art.  A  pantomime  without  a  big  show  scene  would  be 
nothing  nowadays,  so  an  elaborate  scenic  display  has  been 
arranged  for  the  "  Hall  of  Dazzling  Light,"  a  brilliant  scene, 
solidly  set  at  the  back,  where  dancers  and  bicyclists  precede  a 
wonderfully  well  arranged  procession  of  nations.  Indeed,  the 
whole  production  has  been  brought  out  with  care  and  la 
expenditure,  and  with  the  happiest  result.  Mr.  Beryl,  be  it  noted, 
has  had  the  invaluable  assistance,  in  the  production,  of  Mr.  Frank 
Emery,  one  of  our  most  experienced  stage-managers,  and  a  past 
master  in  pantomime  production. 

The  best  efforts  in  "  Ali  Baba  and  the  Forty  Thieves,"  at  the 
handsome  Lyceum  Theatre,  Edinburgh,  which  is  presided  over 
by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  B.  Howard,  are  a  beautiful  fan  ballet  and  an 
equally  gcod  Oriental  ballet  Then  there  are  a  troupe  of  wonder- 


82  THE     THEATRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886 

fully  clever  bicyclists  and  a  donkey  which  is  irresistibly  comic.  In 
fact,  this  donkey  is  the  most  amusing  fellow  I  saw  on  my  travels, 
and  ought  to  be  brought  to  the  metropolis  without  delay.  Mr. 
W.  H.  Denny  is  a  dryly  humorous  Ali  Baba  and  Miss  Fanny 
Marriott  is  a  sprightly  Ganem.  But  I  did  not  like  the  Cogia  of 
Mr.  Harry  Monkhouse.  Men  in  women's  clothes  are  seldom 
inoffensive  on  the  stage  unless  they  are  made  unprepossessing  in 
appearance,  a  hint  which  Mr.  Monkhouse  in  Edinburgh,  and  Mr. 
Arthur  Wellesley  in  Liverpool,  would  do  well  to  take.  Mr.  J.  W. 
Bradbury  makes  a  quaint  Mustapha.  Miss  Rosie  St.  George,  the 
Morgiana  of  Mr.  Howard's  cast,  I  did  not  see,  as  she  was  ill  on 
the  occasion  of  my  visit,  her  place  being  taken  by  Miss  L.  Durant, 
a  graceful  actress  of  the  part. 

At  Mr.  Thos.  W.  Charles's  Grand  Theatre,  Glasgow,  elaborate 
scenery  is  the  order  of  the  day.  "  The  Forty  Thieves "  is  a 
subject  allowing  for  great  things  in  this  direction,  and,  provided 
with  an  immense  stage,  every  possible  advantage  has  been  taken 
by  Mr.  Charles  to  provide  one  of  the  most  extensive  and  artistic 
spectacular  displays  to  be  seen  out  of  London.  Nothing  could  be 
better  than  the  Eastern  bazaar,  with  its  pretty  slave  dance ;  and  the 
robbers'  prismatic  cave,  with  its  evolutions  of  the  famous  forty  in 
their  sparkling,  golden-jewelled,  electric  armour,  is  a  particularly 
brilliant  sight.  Exceedingly  brilliant,  too,  is  Ali  Baba's  palace, 
with  its  procession  of  splendidly  attired  guests  and  its  impressive 
Oriental  ballet.  Where  so  much  attention  is  devoted  to  scenery 
and  dresses,  the  acting  and  fun  naturally  suffer,  but  Miss  Minnie 
Byron  makes  a  delightful  Ganem,  while  Miss  Ethel  Castleton  acts 
gracefully  and  sings  with  sweetness  and  expression  as  Morgiana. 
Mr.  Alfred  Hemming  is  agile  and  amusing  as  Hassarac,  Mr. 
Harry  Fischer  is  a  nimble  Shacabac,  Miss  Lizzie  Kelsey  is  a 
commanding  Abdallah  in  more  senses  than  one,  and  Mr.  Robert 
Nelson  is  amusing  as  Falalla,  Ali's  better  half. 

For  genuine,  honest  fun  commend  me  to  the  South  side  Glas- 
gow pantomime,  the  Princess's,  where  "  Robinson  Crusoe  "  is 
attracting  overflowing  audiences,  thanks,  as  I  take  it,  to  the  acting 
of  Mrs.  Crusoe  by  Mr.  Ramsey  Danvers,  who  is  the  •"  old  woman  " 
par  excellence  of  the  Scottish  stage.  Mrs.  Crusoe  is,  of  course, 
turned  into  a  Scotch  woman,  and  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Ramsey 
Danvers  she  is  the  cause  of  uncontrollable  laughter  to  thousands 


FEB.  i,  1886.]       PROVINCIAL  PANTOMIMES.  83 

upon  thousands  of  good  folk.  The  dry  "  pawky  "  humour  of  Mr. 
Ramsey  Danvers  is  of  immense  service  to  him.  He  keeps  the 
house  in  a  roar  of  laughter  all  the  time  he  is  on  the  stage, 
apparently  without  effort,  and  certainly  without  the  slightest  taint 
of  suggestion.  One  great  charm  of  his  (performance,  in  short,  is 
the  manner  in  which  he  loses  his  identity.  The  actor  is  sub- 
merged in  the  character,  so  that  in  the  Mrs.  Crusoe  of  Mr. 
Ramsey  Danvers  you  see  only  the  quaint  old  woman,  who  might 
stand  for  a  picture  from  real  life.  Mr.  Danvers  has  the  pantomime 
practically  to  himself;  but  Miss  Maggie  Duggan,  as  Robinson, 
proves  herself  a  pleasant,  bright  actress,  and  a  good  singer.  A 
sailor's  ballet  is,  of  course,  greatly  appreciated  at  this  theatre,  but 
the  ballet  of  the  months,  adapted  from  "  Excelsior,"  and  arranged 
by  Mr.  Lee  Anderson,  also  deservedly  falls  in  for  applause.  Mr. 
Cecil  Beryl  here,  as  at  Edinburgh,  has  .had  the  able  assistance  of 
Mr.  Frank  Emery  in  the  production. 

Mrs.  Edward  Saker's  pantomime  at  the  Alexandra  Theatre, 
Liverpool,  like  that  of  the  Grand,  Glasgow,  is  mainly  a  great 
scenic  display.  Once  more  the  skilled  hand  of  Mr.  John  Brunton 
has  been  employed  with  the  happiest  result.  Mr.  Brunton  is  an 
artist  of  singular  taste  and  ability,  and,  but  give  him  scope,  he 
will  produce  a  series  of  as  beautiful  pictures  as  heart  of  man  could 
wish.  Mr.  Brunton  has  fortunately  been  provided  with  vast 
opportunity  for  the  exhibition  of  his  art,  thanks  to  the  cleverly- 
contrived  and  gracefully-written  story  of  "  Cinderella,"  as  told  by 
Messrs.  T.  Edgar  Pemberton  and  J.  James  Hewson.  The  result, 
as  I  have  said,  is  singularly  happy,  for  Mr.  Brunton  has  set  upon 
the  stage  some  lovely  scenes,  many  of  which  are,  to  my  mind,  far 
too  good  for  pantomime.  The  very  first  scene  of  all,  the  village, 
occupies  the  entire  stage,  and  is  simply  idyllic  in  its  pastoral 
beauty.  The  forest  glade  is  quite  lovely,  and  the  ball-room  is  a 
brilliant  and  effective  piece  of  painting.  The  transformation 
scene,  entitled  "  The  Gardens  of  the  Ocean,"  excels  in  beauty 
anything  yet  done  by  Mr.  Brunton.  It  is  chiefly  remarkable  for 
its  harmonious  and  delicate  colouring,  and  the  absence  of  golden- 
haired  fairies  ascending  to  the  flies.  An  historical  procession  by 
children,  a  fox  hunt  with  an  old  English  hunting  chorus,  and  a 
really  beautiful  swan  ballet  are  among  the  other  attractions  of 
this  superb  production.  Then  there  are  the  dances  of  Mdlle. 
Pertoldi  and  Miss  Florence  Valeria,  the  pantomime  performance 


84  THE    THEATRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886. 

of  Mephisto  by  Mr.  George  Lupino,  junr.,  a  phantom  fight  by 
the  Brothers  Lupino,  and  the  aerial  flights  of  Mdlle.  ^Enea,  to 
further  enhance  the  splendour  of  the  production.  The  actors  are 
overshadowed  by  the  brilliancy  of  their  surroundings.  Mr.  George 
Walton  is  certainly  amusing  as  the  impecunious  Baron,  and  Mr. 
T.  P.  Haynes  is  capital  as  one  of  the  ugly  sisters.  To  Mr.  Arthur 
Wellesley  I  have  already  alluded,  and  I  fail  to  see  anything  enter- 
taining in  the  meaningless  movements  of  Mr.  Mark  Melford  as 
the  Baron's  Buttons.  Miss  Carrie  Coote  is  a  bright  little 
Dandini,  and  Miss  Letty  Lind  dances  gracefully  as  Cinderella.  A 
meed  of  praise  should  be  accorded  to  Mr.  G.  W.  Harris,  Mrs. 
Saker's  stage-manager,  who  has  been  of  great  service  to  the  pro- 
duction ;  and  Mr.  John  Ross  is  to  be  commended  for  his  excellent 
selection  and  arrangement  of  the  music. 

The  pantomimes  at  the  Theatre  Royal  and  the  Prince's  Theatre, 
Manchester,  vie  with  each  other  in  the  matter  of  scenery.  In  this 
respect,  both  are  excellent,  but  the  Royal  is  the  better  of  the  two. 
"  Dick  Whittington,"  written  by  Mr.  T.  F.  Doyle,  is  the  panto- 
mime at  the  latter  house.  Its  most  artistic  scene  is  that  of  Highgate 
Hill  by  night,  where  a  ballet  of  elves  occurs.  This,  I  think,  is  the 
best  ballet  in  the  provincial  pantomimes,  and  it  is  made  so  by  the 
admirably  appropriate  music  of  Mr.  John  Crook.  It  is  more  than 
an  ordinary  pleasure  to  witness  a  ballet  so  beautifully  conceived 
as  this,  and  so  well  danced  to  suggestive  music.  Mr.  Crook's 
effective  music  has  also  been  employed  with  success  in  the  pretty 
nautch  ballet  in  the  Imperial  ball-room.  The  Lord  Mayor's  Show 
at  Guildhall  is  quite  as  fine  in  its  way  as  anything  to  be  seen  in 
London.  Miss  'Lizzie  Coote,  originally  in  the  cast  as  Dick 
Whittington,  has  been  ill  for  some  time,  so  her  place  is 
taken  by  Miss  Alice  Aynsley  Cook,  a  singer  of  good  repute.  Mr. 
Charles  Collette,  as  the  Idle  Apprentice,  does  not  seem  to  be  in 
his  element.  Mr.  Lionel  Rignold  is  sufficiently  amusing  as  the 
Cook,  and  Miss  Minnie  Marshall  is  a  pretty  Alice.  But  acti'ng  is 
not  the  strong  point  of  the  Royal  pantomime. 

The  best  acting  in  the  country  pantomimes  is  to  be  observed  at 
the  Prince's  Theatre,  Manchester,  in  "  Cinderella,"  the  "  book  "  of 
which  is  from  the  pen  of  Mr.  Harry  Nicholls.  Mr.  Edward 
Righton  and  Mr.  Walter  Wardroper  are  the  funniest  of  sisters  ever 
seen  in  "  Cinderella."  Mr.  Righton  simply  revels  in  the  part  of 


FEB.       1886]        PROVINCIAL    PANTOMIMES.  85 

Blondina,  familiarly  called  "  Baby."     This  clever  comedian  has 
done  nothing  to  equal  this  truly  comic  performance  for  a  long 
time.     He  is  legitimately  funny  in  the  impersonation,  and  the  rich, 
unctuous  humour  of  it  is  immensely  entertaining.     His  medley 
song  with  Cinderella  is  as  laughable  as  it  is  clever.     Mr.  Ward- 
roper  takes  his  part  more  quietly  than  Mr.  Righton,  but  makes  it 
amusing  for  all  that.     The  ideal  Cinderella  has  at  last  appeared 
in  Miss  Edith  Brandon,  who  not  only  looks  the  character,  but 
acts  it  into  the  bargain.     She  thoroughly  loses  herself  in  the  part, 
and  so  gives  a  piece  of  acting  as  interesting  as  it  is  pretty  and 
sympathetic.     Her  impersonation  is  made  additionally  valuable  by 
a  sweet  and  pure  voice,  which  she  uses  to  great  advantage.     To 
my  mind,  the  Cinderella  of  Miss  Edith  Brandon  is  the  attraction 
of  the   pantomime,  and   by  far  the   best    and    most    noticeable 
realisation  of  the  character  that  I  have  seen.     As  Miss  Brandon 
is  the  ideal  Cinderella,  so  Miss  Edith  Blande  is  the  ideal  prince  of 
pantomime.  Of  a  commanding  and  an  eminently  pleasing  presence, 
full  of  spirits,  and  of  easy,  graceful  carriage,  she  thro  ws  herself 
fully  into  her  part,  and  acts  the  lover,  as  a  lover  should  be  acted, 
with  princely  mien  and  ardour.  She  is  thoroughly  and  exceptionally 
excellent  as   Prince   Pastorelle,  and  comes  only  second  to  Miss 
Brandon's  Cinderella  because  her  part  does  not  afford  her  quite 
so  much  opportunity  for  acting.     As  it  is,  no  pantomime  Prince 
equals  her  this  season. 

"  Robinson  Crusoe,"  at  the  Birmingham  Theatre  Royal,  is,  in 
my  estimation,  far  and  away  the  best  of  the  provincial  pantomimes 
in  general  excellence  of  scenery,  costumes,  and  acting,  to  say 
nothing  of  its  music,  which  surpasses  that  in  all  the  other 
productions,  in  point  of  melody  and  liveliness.  To  particularise 
all  the  scenery  would  occupy  more  space  than  is  at  my  disposal, 
but  I  cannot  refrain  from  alluding  to  the  effective  nature  of  the 
ship  scene,  the  beauty  of  the  Fairy  Queen's  bower,  aud  the  bril- 
liancy of  the  tropical  island,  with  its  ballet  of  squaws,  its  proces- 
sion of  tribes,  and  the  final  arrival  of  a  British  war  ship.  A 
ballet  of  fire  fiends  is  wonderfully  well  done,  and  by  way  of  con- 
trast to  this  nothing  could  be  better  than  the  school  scene  with 
its  seventy  scholars  decked  out  in  Kate  Greenaway  costumes, 
singing  as  happily  and  as  merrily  as  children  only  can.  Miss 
Vesta  Tilley  plays  Robinson  with  glee,  brightness,  and  activity, 
and  she  sings  capitally.  Moreover,  there  is  no  sign  of  the  music 


86  THE  THEATRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886. 

hall  about  her.  Miss  Alice  Burville  sings  sweetly  as  the  Fairy 
Queen,  and  Mr.  F.  W.  Newham  is  an  excellent  Dame  Crusoe. 
Miss  Millie  Steele,  Miss  Jessie  Acton,  and  Mr.  Arthur  Ricketts 
are  also  of  signal  service,  and  the  dancing  of  the  Rosa  troupe, 
with  the  clever  feats  of  that  adroit  conjurer,  Mons.  Trewey,  add 
to  the  already  great  attractiveness  of  the  production.  The 
libretto,  by  Mr.  James  J.  Blood,  is  smartly  and  neatly  written, 
and  Mr.  Edward  Edmonds,  another  stage  manager  of  consider- 
able experience,  is  responsible  for  the  production.  Let  me  advise 
such  of  my  readers  as  care  to  see  a  brisk,  well-constructed, 
amusing,  and  thoroughly  enjoyable  pantomime,  to  lose  no  time  in 
finding  their  way  to  Euston,  and  travelling  thence  by  the  well- 
ordered,  fast,  and  punctual  trains  of  the  London  and  North- 
Western  Railway  to  Birmingham,  there  to  see  "  Robinson  Crusoe" 
at  the  Theatre  Royal.  If  the  visit  can  be  extended  to  Man- 
chester and  Liverpool  it  will  be  time  well  spent.  I  will  answer 
for  it  that  the  pantomime  at  the  Birmingham  Theatre  Royal  is 
the  best  to  be  seen  in  the  country  this  year,  and  those  at  Man- 
chester and  Liverpool  are  also  well  worth  witnessing. 

"  Gulliver's  Travels,"  written  by  Mr.  Harry  Paulton  for  the 
Birmingham  Prince  of  Wales's  Theatre,  suffers  from  the  fact  that 
children  play  far  too  large  a  part  in  it.  One  can  have  too  much 
of  a  good  thing  and  children  repeated  in  large  and  frequent  doses 
are  apt  to  pall  upon  you.  Nor  is  the  acting  quite  as  good  as  it 
might  be,  although  no  fault  can  be  found  with  Mr.  Fawcett 
Lomax  as  Gulliver,  or  Miss  Addy  Conyers,  who  makes  a  handsome 
and  attractive  Prince. 

From  this  survey  of  the  principal  provincial  pantomimes  it  maybe 
seen  that  the  tendency  to  produce  an  elaborate  spectacle,  instead  of 
a  bustling,  funny  pantomime,  is  on  the  increase.  Indeed,  the 
Christmas  production  now  resembles  an  elaborate  opera-bouffe  of 
a  heavy  nature  more  nearly  than  anything  else.  Laughter  is 
sacrificed  for  scenery,  and  general  dulness  is  the  result  of  a  too 
ambitious  nature  to  please  the  eye.  The  quality  of  the  music  this 
year  may  be  judged  from  the  fact  that  the  immortal  "  What 
cheer,  'Ria  "  and  "  What  a  happy  land  is  England  "  pursued  me 
nearly  everywhere.  The  abominable  "  advertising  curtain  "  is  to 
be  found  in  all  the  principle  theatres  now.  It  was  unheard  of  a 
few  years  ago  ;  now  it  reigns  supreme.  Why,  I  wonder,  should 
this  thing  of  horror  be  allowed  to  exist  ? 


FEB.  i,  1886.]  AN     OLD     VAI.I'.M,  87 


An   Old   Valentine. 

A  SQUARE  oak  box,  and  in  it  tin-re  reposes, 
Couched  on  a  paper  that  is  torn  and  old, 
A  tiny  bunch  of  withered  yellow  roses, 

The  outcome  of  a  tale  that  once  was  toM 
To  eyes  whose  love-light  woke  the  love  in  mi 
In  short,  a  dainty  old-world  valentine. 

Bright  was  the  morning  of  our  wintry  m 

Blue  were  the  skies,  and  piercing-sweet  the  air, 

The  quiring  birds  sang  lovingly  in  greeting, 
The  sun  shone  bravely  on  her  tawny  hair, 

And  then  these  roses  left  her  hands  for  mine 

Wrapped  in  this  paper  :  For  my  Valentine. 

Long  years  ago  !  A  ghost  of  vanished  glory 

When  hearts  beat  high,  and  "  all  the  world  .ng,' 

When  Age  seemed  little  but  a  fabled  story, 

A  dismal  phantom  that  the  poets  sir 
And  Life,  perpetual  youth.     A  state,  in  i 
Where  dear  lips  whispered  :  "  Be  my  Valeii; 

Long  years  ago  !  And  so  I  shut  my  roses 
Back  in  their  box  and  place  it  gently  by. 

The  stillness  of  my  lonely  home  discloses 
The  love  they  shrine  is  but  a  memory ; 

But  why  we  parted, — if  the  fault  were  mi 

I  say  not.     But  I  keep  my  valentine. 

M. 


- 


88  THE     THEATRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886. 


Thespis  at  Roulette. 

BY  CHARLES  HERVEY. 

HP  HE  decade  from  1860  to  1870  may  fairly  claim  to  rank 
-L  among  the  most  brilliant  epochs  in  the  social  history  of 
Baden  Baden.  That  delightful  resort — very  different  from  what 
it  now  is — was  then  the  chosen  rendezvous  of  fashion,  the  favourite 
sojourn  of  pleasure-seekers  from  every  quarter  of  the  civilised 
world,  attracted  thither,  it  must  be  owned,  less  by  the  picturesque 
beauty  of  the  spot  itself  than  by  the  thousand  and  one  allurements 
ingeniously  calculated  to  satisfy  the  requirements  of  the  most 
Sybaritical  tourist,  from  the  mere  Boulevard  lounger  to  the  in- 
corrigible votary  of  the  board  of  green  cloth.  No  one  understood 
better  how  to  bait  his  hook  than  the  wily  Dupressoir,  wiser  even 
in  his  generation  than  his  predecessor  Benazet ;  like  Tibby  Post- 
lethwaite  in  the  farce,  he  had  a  "  hi "  on  the  main  chance,  and, 
instead  of  limiting  his  efforts  to  the  gratification  of  one  class  of 
visitors,  made  it  his  especial  business  to  please  all.  For  Mater- 
familias  invitations  to  balls  and  concerts  abounded ;  sportsmen 
were  seduced  by  free  permission  to  shoot  and  fish  whenever  they 
chose  ;  while  for  the  delectation  of  the  general  public  artists  of 
every  nationality,  operatic  and  dramatic,  reaped  a  fabulous  harvest 
by  their  exertions  in  the  miniature  theatre  and  the  Salon  des 
Fleurs. 

Above  all,  the  autocrat  of  the  bank  spared  no  pains  to  draw 
within  his  magic  circle  as  many  representatives  of  Gallic  literature 
as  he  could  possibly  tempt  to  exchange  their  beloved  asphalt  for 
the  terrace  of  the  Conversation,  or  the  shady  promenade  of  the 
Lichtenthal  alley;  especially  laying  himself  out  to  secure  the 
presence  of  at  least  three  or  four  recognised  purveyors  of  tittle 
tattle  to  the  Gaulois  and  the  Figaro.  Thus,  at  whatever  hour  you 
chanced  to  pass  the  Cafe"  Weber,  you  were  almost  certain  to  dis- 
cover Henri  de  Pene,  Albert  Wolff,  or  Auguste  Villemot  installed 
at  one  of  the  circular  tables  al  fresco,  quaffing  apocryphal  Bavarian 


FEB.  i,  i886.]  THESPIS    AT   ROULETTE.  89 

beer  and  minutely  inspecting  from  this  coign  of  vantage  the  latest 
"  creations  "  of  Worth  and  their  wearers  ;  while  you  were  equally 
sure  to  come  across  the  Russian  Tourgenieff  chatting  amicably 
with  Madame  Pauline  Viardot,  and  the  conical  bearded  Ernest 
Feydeau  strutting  to  and  fro,  resplendently  attired  in  the  smartest 
and  freshest  of  velvet  jackets. 

It  was  an  understood  thing  that,  as  far  as  the  journalists  and 
minor  men  of  letters  were  concerned,  a  free  railway  ticket  should 
be  accorded  them,  and  that  during  their  stay  at  Baden  they  should 
be  housed  and  fed  at  the  cost  of  the  bank  ;  and  as  it  was  delicately 
hinted  to  them  that  any  money  they  might  lose  at  the  tables 
would  be  returned  to  them  on  their  departure,  they  necessarily 
felt  in  honour  bound  to  abstain  from  playing.  Siraudin  alone  re- 
fused to  accept  the  offered  conditions.  "  My  good  Dupressoir," 
he  said,  "  permit  me  to  remark  that  when  I  attack  the  roulette  I 
give  no  quarter  and  expect  none.  I  and  my  carpet  bag  are  pretty 
well  known  at  the  Baden  station,  but  we  only  pay  flying  visits, 
and  never  stay  anywhere  long,  for  certain  financial  reasons  on 
which  it  is  unnecessary  to  dwell.  I'm  here  to-day,  but  I  may  as 
well  say  au  revolt,  for  unless  the  six  first  numbers  come  up  oftener 
than  they  usually  do,  I  shall  be  half  way  back  to  Paris  by  this 
time  to-morrow." 

In  the  course  of  the  ten  years  alluded  to,  no  less  than  five 
theatres  were  successively  and  brilliantly  represented  in  the  valley 
of  the  Oos ;  these  were  the  Comedie  Fran9aise,  the  Italiens,  the 
Opera  Comique,  the  Bouffes  Parisiens  and  the  Palais  Royal. 
The  magnates  of  the  Rue  Richelieu,  including  Regnier,  Bressant, 
Delaunay,  and  Mdlle.  Madeleine  Brohan,  doubtless  considered 
the  faintest  show  of  interest  in  the  vagaries  of  the  rolling  ball  in- 
fra dig.,  for  they  rarely  if  ever  appeared  in  the  play-rooms  ;  tlu-ir 
subordinates,  however,  were  less  scrupulous,  and  more  than  one 
pcnsionnaire  occasionally  ventured  a  five-franc  piece  on  some 
favourite  number,  or  even  indulged  in  the  too  often  fallacious 
hope  of  dropping  on  a  "  serie  "  at  the  trcnte  ct  quarantc. 

Whether  the— more  or  less— Italian  colleagues  of  Mdlle.  Krauss 
contributed  their  mite  to  the  coffers  of  the  bank  or  not,  I  am 
unable  to  say  ;  but  can  safely  affirm  that  the  prima  donna  herself, 
whose  Lucrezia  Borgia  then  filled  the  little  theatre  to  over-flowing, 
was  far  too  thrifty  a  lady  to  risk  a  single  sou  of  her  very  liberal 
salary  in  so  unprofitable  a  speculation.  N  :>r  was  the  siren  of  the 


go  THE    THE  A  TRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886 

Opera  Comique,  Mdlle.  Constance  Lefebvre,  whose  marriage  with 
Faure  was  still  a  thing  of  the  future,  by  any  means  disposed  to 
waste  her  time  listening  to  the  monotonous  shibboleth  of  the 
croupiers,  or  in  watching  the  alternate  triumph  and  discomfiture 
of  the  sallow-cheeked,  pearl-grey  gloved  Dutchman  who  broke  the 
bank  one  day  and  was  broken  himself  the  next.  On  the  contrary, 
she  kept  studiously  aloof  from  the  temptations'  of  Hades  ;  and 
when  my  old  friend,  Jules  Coste,  whose  great  ambition  was  to 
write  an  opera  for  her,  complained  bitterly  of  his  constant  ill  luck, 
chaffed  him  unmercifully,  and  told  him  plainly  that  it  served  him 
right  for  embarking  his  slender  capital  in  so  untrustworthy  a 
"galere." 

I  have  before  me  while  I  write  a  memorial  of  the  composer  in 
question,  in  the  shape  of  his  first  attempt  at  orchestration,  accom- 
panied by  the  following  note.  "  This  document  will  be  extremely 
precious  some  day,  when  a  grateful  country  shall  have  erected  a 
statue  in  my  honour  !  "  Alas,  poor  Coste  has  long  since  gone 
over  to  the  majority ;  and  of  the  two  comic  operettas  contributed 
by  him  to  the  repertory  of  the  Varieties,  neither,  I  fear,  is  likely 
to  be  revived  for  the  benefit  of  posterity. 

I  had  lost  sight  for  some  years  of  the  lively  soubrette,  Mdlle. 
Alice  Ozy,  since  her  retirement  from  the  stage,  but  found  her  at 
Baden  in  July,  1870,  shortly  before  the  declaration  of  war.  During 
her  dramatic  career  she  had  amassed,  mainly  by  speculations  at 
the  Bourse,  a  considerable  fortune,  and  invested  part  of  it  in  the 
purchase  of  a  pretty  villa  near  Lichtenthal.  Now  and  then,  but 
at  rare  intervals,  the  rustling  of  her  silk  dress  distracted  for  a 
moment  the  attention  of  the  roulette  players  ;  but  a  double  louis 
placed  on  No.  8,  corresponding  with  the  combined  letters  of  her 
Christian  and  surname,  was  her  sole  and  invariable  venture,  and 
whether  she  won  or  lost,  a  single  essay  satisfied  her,  and  she 
sailed  out  of  the  room  as  placidly  and  unconcernedly  as  she  had 
entered  it, 

The  great  German  tenor,  Niemann,  the  husband  of  Marie 
Seebach  and  the  original  representative  of  Tannhauser,  was  an 
inveterate  gambler.  In  1868,  I  think,  he  came  to  Baden,  and 
commenced  his  campaign  by  boldly  attacking  the  bank  with 
rouleaux  of  double  Fredericks,  apparently  the  proceeds  of  a  pro- 
fessional tour.  A  very  short  time,  however,  sufficed  to  moderate 
his  ardour;  and  fresh  sinews  of  war  becoming  indispensable,  his 


FEB.  i,  i886.]          TIIHSPIS    AT    ROULETTE.  91 

stalwart  figure  might  continually  be  seen  ie  prome- 

nade in  the  direction  of  the  telegraph   office,  until,  tin-   mtno 
having  been  too  frequently  repeat, •«!,  the  supplies  at.ruptK 
so  that  when  a  day  or  two  later  he  failed  to  put  in  an  appearance 
at  his  usual  hour,  I  needed  no  CEdipus  to  tell  me  wl 

When  Offenbach  brought  out   his  "  Princesse  de  Trcbizon- : 
for  the  first   time  at  the  Baden  theatre,  the  handsome  sui 
obtained  for  it  profited  him  but  little,  almost  every  shilling  of  the 
honorarium  ultimately  finding  its  way  back  to   M.  Dupre? 
treasury.     Maitre  Jacques  had  an  irresistible  craving  for  excite- 
ment, and  not  a  day  passed  without  his  following  the  example  of 
the  banker  Haber,  and  frittering  away  at  least  a  thousand  francs 
in  abortive  attempts  to  spot  the  winning  number.  He  never  seemed 
in  the  slightest  degree  depressed  by  his  bad  luck,  but  watched  the 
gradual  absorption  of  his  capital  with  his  ordinary  stereot\ 
smile  ;  and,  when  his  funds  were  exhausted,  strolled  leisurely  into 
the"galerie   des    fumeurs,"  and    soon    forgot    his   losses   in    the 
tranquil  enjoyment  of  one  of  Herr  Rheinbolt's  cigarettes. 

The  only  interpreter  of  his  (then)  latest  work  for  whom  the 
roulette  possessed  a  deplorably  magnetic  attraction  was  Madame 
Thierret,  the  excellent  comic  old  woman  of  the  company,  who 
every  afternoon  from  three  to  four  was  a  fixture  at  the  table. 
There  she  sat,  solemnly  counting  over  her  little  store  of  five-franc 
pieces  symmetrically  arranged  in  piles  before  her,  and  noting  the 
progressive  diminution  of  her  stock  with  a  disturbed  air  ;  ever  and 
anon  muttering  in  a  low  but  perfectly  audible  voice,  "  Encore 
perdu  !  c'est  e-ton-nant,  in-con-ce-vable  !"  It  is  but  fair  to  suppose 
that  fortune  occasionally  favoured  her,  but  such  windfalls  must 
have  been  few  and  far  between  ;  for,  if  at  the  expiration  of  her 
engagement,  her  return  journey  to  Paris  had  depended  on  her  own 
ability  to  defray  it,  she  would  most  assuredly  have  been  left  behind. 

Early  in  July,  1870,  the  "  Queen  of  Spas  "  was  enlivened  by  the 
arrival  of  a  choice  detachment  from  the  Palais  Royal,  including 
Gil  Perez,  Brasseur,  Luguet  and  Mdlle.  Julia  Baron,  of  whom 
the  last-named  alone  patronised  the  roulette  ;  her  male  colleagues 
wisely  preferring  the  less  perilous  occupation  of  angling  at  Gerns- 
bach,  or  arranging  excursions  to  La  Favorite  and  Eberstein. 
Now  and  then  after  rehearsal  Gil  Perez  and  Brasseur,  inseparable 
allies,  appeared  on  the  promenade ;  the  former,  grave  as  a  judge, 
attired  in  a  suit  of  "dittos"  strongly  suggestive  of  "la  belle 

NEW   SERIES. — VOL.    VII.  » 


92  THE    THEATRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886. 

Jardiniere,"  and  the  latter  smirking  and  smiling  in  a  remarkable 
"  get  up  "  not  unlike  that  of  the  traditional  "  swell  "  of  a  panto- 
mime. Meanwhile  the  fair  Julia,  escorted  by  a  devoted  band  of 
admirers,  and  bearing  in  mind  the  precept  "  on  n'est  pas  ici  pour 
s'amuser,"  was  hard  at  work  immediately  behind  the  croupier  pre- 
siding over  what  has  not  inaptly  been  denominated  the  "  infernal 
machine,"  staking  her  money  freely,  and  on  each  unsuccessful 
coup  appealing  with  a  coquettish  "  moue  "  to  the  sympathy  of  her 
surrounding  body  guard.  One  of  these,  a  young  man  just  arrived 
from  Homburg,  told  me  an  anecdote  highly  characteristic  of  the 
natives  of  that  rival  spa,  which  will  not  be  out  of  place  here. 

During  the  first  weeks  of  his  stay  he  had  had  an  extraordinary 
run  of  luck,  his  winnings  exceeding  sixty  thousand  francs ;  and 
imagining,  as  is  too  often  the  case,  that  this  happy  state  of  things 
would  infallibly  continue,  became  reckless  in  his  expenditure,  and 
squandered  his  gold  right  and  left  as  the  fancy  prompted  him. 
Among  other  capricious  investments,  he  one  day  purchased  an 
elaborately  ornamented  watch  fitted  with  the  latest  improvements, 
which  the  jeweller  assured  him  was  cheap  at  eighteen  hundred 
francs;  and  flattered  himself  with  the  idea  that  he  had  made  an 
excellent  bargain.  Before  the  week  was  out,  however,  the  tide  of 
fortune  having  completely  turned  against  him,  he  was  reduced  to 
the  necessity^of  disposing  of  his  recent  acquisition,  and,  returning 
to  the  shop  where  he  had  bought  it,  inquired  of  the  dealer,  on  the 
plea  that  it  did  not  altogether  suit  him,  what  he  would  give  him 
for  it.  The  jeweller  at  first  demurred,  saying  that  it  was  not  his 
habit  to  re-purchase  articles  once  sold  by  him  ;  but,  finally — as  an 
especial  favour — consented  to  take  it  back  for  ninety  francs  ;  and, 
on  the  owner's  indignantly  protesting  against  so  inadequate  an 
offer,  coolly  replied  that  watches  were  almost  unsaleable  at  Hom- 
burg, no  frequenter  of  the  gaming  table  caring  to  be  reminded  how 
much  time  he  had  lost  there ! 

The  pet  number  affected  by  Mdlle.  Baron  was  17,  and  she 
never  staked  on  any  other.  Once,  and  but  once  I  witnessed  her 
triumph  when  it  came  up,  piled  with  louis  and  five-franc  pieces  ; 
she  positively  screamed  with  delight,  and  such  was  the  sensation 
created  by  the  event  that  the  stolid  gravity  of  the  employes 
momentarily  relaxed,  and  even  M.  Gerard,  the  inspector,  condes- 
cended to  smile.  "  One  swallow,"  however,  "  makes  no  summer," 
and  the  lively  actress,  after  a  long  and  protracted  struggle,  was 


FEB.I,  ,886.]  DON'T     TELL.  93 

ultimately  cleared  out.  It  was  subsequently  whispered,  greatly  to 
the  credit  ofM.  Dupressoir's  gallantry,  that  a  considerable  portion 
of  her  losses  had  been  refunded  to  her,  on  the  sole  condition  that 
she  should  henceforth  refrain  from  pursuing  her  favourite  pastime, 
and,  like  Mr.  Mizzle  in  "  A  day  well  spent,"  content  herself  in 
future  with  being  "  only  a  spectator." 


Don't    Tell. 

(FOR   MUSIC.) 

I  KNOW  of  a  sweet  little  nook  by  a  stile, 
But  I  won't  say  where  I 
Yet  it  was  delicious  to  dream  awhile 

In  the  shadow  there  ! 

Pleasant  to  dream  where  the  wrinds  are  low, 
Where  the  dove  makes  moan,  and  the  blue-bells  blow, 
With  the  merriest  maid  in  the  world  to  woo. 
But  I  won't  tell  who 

To  you  !  To  you  ! 

We  lingered  long  in  that  nook  so  green, 

But  I  wron't  say  when  ! 
Though  the  merle  wots  well  of  the  spot  I  mean, 

For  he  saw  us  then. 

I  drew  from  the  beck  a  forget-me-not, 
As  she  took  it  I  said — but  I  won't  say  what — 
And  a  glad  gleam  shot  through  her  soft  blue  eye, 
But  I  won't  say  why  ! 

Not  I  !     Not  I ! 

F.    B.    DOVETON, 


H     2 


94  THE    THEATRE.  [FEB.  i,  i8S6. 


<S>ur 


THAT  unquestionably  great  gun,  Canon  Liszt,  will  revisit  London 
early  in  the  approaching  spring.  Forty-five  years  have  elapsed,  I 
believe,  since  last  he  set  foot  on  English  soil,  the  acknowledged  prince  of 
pianists  at  that  time  living.  Musical  society  in  this  metropolis  was  not  then 
sufficiently  enlightened  or  emancipate  from  prejudice  to  appreciate  at  their 
full  value  and  significance  his  splendid  innovations  in  connection  with  the 
technique  of  pianism,  which  startled  our  Conservative  dilettanti,  and  evoked 
a  tempest  of  adverse  criticism  from  professional  laudatores  tempons  acti. 
From  a  pecuniary  point  of  view  his  successive  performances  at  the  Phil- 
harmonic Concerts  were  less  successful  than  his  impresario  for  the  time 
being  had  expected  them  to  be  ;  and  it  is  said  that,  on  discovering  this 
to  be  the  case,  he  generously  insisted  upon  indemnifying  the  impress,  for  the 
loss  it  had  sustained  through  its  miscalculation.  The  coolness  of  his  recep- 
tion here— which  was  the  more  disagreeably  surprising  to  him,  because  he 
had  theretofore  carried  all  before  him  in  every  Continental  city  in  which  he 
had  played — indisposed  him  to  repeat  an  experiment  which  had  been 
fraught  with  disappointment  and  mortification  to  him.  Hence,  his 
steadfast  reluctance,  adhered  to  throughout  so  many  years,  to  return  to 
London,  where— like  his  son-in-law,  Wagner,  at  a  later  date— he  had  felt 
himself  to  be  a  "  genie  incompris."  No  musician  living,  not  even  Charles 
Gounod  or  Giuseppe  Verdi,  has  been  the  object  of  such  fervent  hero- 
worship  or  passionate  personal  adoration  as  Ferencz  Liszt.  Vienna, 
Paris,  Rome,  Berlin,  St.  Petersburg  and  many  another  great  Continental 
city  have  been  at  his  feet  any  time  throughout  the  past  half- century 
whenever  he  honoured  them  with  a  visit.  During  his  long  residence  in 
Weimar,  where  he  created  the  musical  "  School  of  the  Future,"  and  taught 
Germany  how  operas  should  be  produced  and  performed,  he  was 
surrounded  by  men  and  women  of  social  and  intellectual  distinction  whose 
admiration  and  love  for  him  knew  no  bounds.  Grandes  dames  de  par  le 
monde  courted  his  smiles,  and  trembled  at  his  frowns  :  it  is  related  of  a 
beautiful  German  Countess  (still  living)  that  she  picked  up  a  cigar-end 
he  threw  away  one  day,  and  had  it  set  in  a  diamond  locket,  which  she 
thereafter  wore  on  her  bosom,  dispensing  a  faint  reek  of  stale  tobacco  for 
which  her  family  and  friends  were  at  a  loss  to  account,  until  accident 
revealed  its  origin.  Every  sort  of  distinction  and  honour  has  been  lavished 
on  Canon  Liszt  by  the  mightiest  potentates  of  the  Continent.  Emperors 
and  Kings  have  conferred  upon  him  their  most  exalted  Orders  of  Chivalry  ; 
he  is  a  Privy  Councillor  of  one  German  Grand-Duchy,  and  an  Aulic 
Councillor  of  another;  mere  wealth  has  been  his  ever  since  the  days  of 
his  early  manhood,  and  he  has  spent  as  much  money  in  noble  works  of 


,  i835.]  OUR  MUSICAL-BOX. 

charity,  and  in  the  encouragement  of  struggling  musical  artists,  as  would 
constitute  half-a-dozen  handsome  fortunes.  Now  that  he  has  at  length  been 
induced  to  revisit  this  vast  city — in  which  the  cultivation  of  musical  know- 
ledge and  taste  has  undergone  incredible  development  since  the  date  of  his 
last  appearance  amongst  us — it  is  to  be  hoped  that  he|will  encounter  a  wel- 
come worthy  of  him ;  for,  after  all,  he  is  not  only  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
composers  of  the  century,  and  the  greatest  pianist  of  all  time  past  and 
present,  but  a  profound  thinker,  generous  philanthropist,  and  high- 
minded,  chivalrous  gentleman.  I  can  imagine  the  joy  which  his  presence 
here  will  occasion  to  his  accomplished  pupil  and  faithful  disciple,  Mr. 
Walter  Bache,  who  has  done  so  much  to  make  Liszt's  compositions  known 
to  the  English  musical  public.  Another  of  his  favourite  alumni,  Leonhard 
Bach,  the  admirable  pianist  who  has  recently  taken  up  his  abode  in  the 
"pays  des  brouillards,77  will  give  a  grand  orchestral  and  choral  concert 
in  the  Canon's  honour  on  April  9  at  St.  James's  Hall.  The  programme 
will,  of  course,  be  exclusively  composed  of  Liszt's  works,  amongst  those 
selected  for  performance  (with  his  approval)  being  his  superb  E  flat 
concerto,  Hungarian  Fantasia,  and  Polonaise  in  E  major,  all  written  for 
the  pianoforte  with  orchestral  accompaniments.  The  soli  will  be  rendered 
Iby  the  concert-giver,  whose  magnificent  interpretations  of  his  great 
^master's  compositions  have  already  established  his  reputation  as  a  virtuoso 
of  the  very  "first  flight  "  in  this  country,  as  well  as  in  the  Fatherland 
Leonhard  Bach  is  one  of  the  few  pianists  living  who  can  play  Liszt's  P.F. 
music  as  its  composer  meant  it  to  be  played  when  he  wrote  it ;  that  is  to 
say,  with  a  complete  mastery  over  its  technical  difficulties,  surpassing 
though  they  be,  that  enables  the  executant  to  devote  his  whole  intellectual 
faculty  and  passional  force  to  the  interpretation  of  the  tone-poet's 
inspirations.  Such  gifts  as  those  of  Herr  Bach  would  in  themselves 
.-suffice  to  render  the  concert  in  question  eminently  attractive  to  music- 
lovers  ;  but  a  still  deeper  interest  will  be  imparted  to  it  by  the  circum- 
stance that  Liszt  will  be  present  on  the  occasion,  and  may,  as  I  am  assured, 
even  consent  to  conduct  one  of  the  principal  numbers.  He  has,  moreover, 
promised  to  assist  at  all  the  preliminary  rehearsals.  Avis  aux  hcteurs  ;  et 
an  bon  entendeiir,  salut  I 


Pleasant  tidings  have  reached  me  from  three  dear  friends  in  lands  far 
away  beyond  the  sea,  one  and  all  £vimz  dome,  earning  fresh  laurels  and 
reaping  golden  harvests  beneath  wintry  skies.  Before  Adelina  Patti 
quitted  Vienna  for  Bucharest,  she  appeared  at  the  Hofoper,  by  special 
request  of  the  Emperor  Francis  Joseph,  in  her  favourite  part  of  Violetta 
(Traviata).  "  Hohe  Preise"  was  put  up  for  the  occasion,  and  no  less  a 
sum  than  ^1,400  was  taken — an  amount  for  the  receipt  of  which  in 
one  evening  there  is  no  precedent  in  the  annals  of  the  Vienna  Opera 
House.  The  Queen  of  Song  received,  amongst  other  tributes  of  public 
admiration,  thirty  wreaths — one,  from  the  Emperor,  was  executed  in  the 
precious  metals — scores  of  bouquets,  and  a  massive  silver  table-service 
from  Crown-Prince  Rudolph.  On  her  arrival  in  Bucharest  she  was  re- 
ceived at  the  railway  station  by  the  Intendant  of  the  Royal  Theatre  and  a 


96  THE  THEATRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886. 

deputation  representing  the  leading  journals  of  the    Roumanian  capital. 
A  torchlight  procession  of  Boyars  in  sledges  escorted  her  to  the  Hotel  du 
Boulevard,  in  which  a  splendid  suite  of  rooms  had  been  retained  for  her 
use.       Madame   Patti  had   been    favoured   by   Prince   Jon    Ghica,    the 
Roumanian  Minister  at  the  Court  of  St.  James,  with  especial    credentials 
to  the  gifted  Queen  Elizabeth,  herself  no  less   accomplished  a  musician 
than  graceful  a  poet ;    the  Diva's  debut  in  Roumanian  society  took  place, 
therefore,  under  the  most  brilliant  auspices  imaginable.       Every  seat  in 
the  huge  opera  house  was  occupied  on  the  occasion  of  her  first  appearance, 
the  cheapest  places    (those  in  the   second   gallery)  fetching  ten  francs 
apiece.     Having  never  until  this  year  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  and 
hearing  Mdme.  Patti  in  the  flesh,  Bucharest  has  lashed   out  into  reckless 
expenditure ;    but  the  Roumanians  are  passionately  fond  of  music,  and 
will  deem  their  money  well  spent  for  such  a  treat  as  Adelina's  singing. 
Whilst  singing  the  mad  scene  in   Lucca,   she  displayed  a  courage  and 
presence  of  mind  that  averted  a  serious  catastrophe.    One  of  the  "  gods,"" 
leaning  over  from  the  slips  to  peep  at  her,  fell  into  the  stalls  ;  whereupon 
a  cry  of  "  fire  "  was  set  up  by  some  fools,  and  the  audience  rose  in  great 
alarm  and  agitation.      The  orchestra,  moreover,   came  to  a  full  stop. 
Madame  Patti  at  once  advanced  to  the  footlights  exclaiming,  "  Mais 
allez-donc,  vogons !  "  to  the  conductor,  who  resumed  his  bdtau,  and  re- 
commenced where  he  had  left  off.      The  audience,  after  having  cheered 
Adelina    to  the  echo  for   her   timely  sang  froid,    sat   down   reassured, 
and  the  performance  was  duly  continued  to  its  natural  close.     On  the  yth 
ult,  Marcella  Sembrich   achieved   a  signal  triumph    in   unenthusiastic 
Berlin,  where  she  gave  a  concert  at  the  Singakademie — the  habitues  of 
which  establishment   are  uncommonly   difficult  to  please,  as  many   an 
excellent  vocalist  has  discovered  ere  now,  to  his  or  her  poignant  mortifi- 
cation— and  was  recalled  twenty-one  several  times  in  the  course  of  the 
evening.     Since  thej>almy  days  of  Pauline  Lucca's  unexampled  popularity 
in    "Athens  on  the  Spree,"    I    can   recall  to   mind  no    instance  of  so 
vivacious  a  display  of  enthusiasm   in  a  Berlin  concert  room.       But  it  is 
scarcely  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  musical  Berlinese,  after  a  long  course 
of  Frau  von  Voggenhuber  and  Fraeulein  Lehmann — meritorious  artistes 
enough,  but  dramatic  rather  than  vocal — should  be  roused  from   their 
accustomed  lethargy  by  the  brilliant  vocalisation  and  perfect  intonation 
of  Marcella  Sembrich.     Not  only  is  this  excellent  artiste  a  polyglot — like 
Adelina  Patti,  Christine  Nilsson,  and  Minnie  Hauk — capable  of  sustaining 
a    number   of   operatic   parts  in   four  or  five   languages,  but   a  pianist 
entitled  to  rank  in  the  same  category  as   Annette  EssipofF  and   Sophie 
Menter,  and  one  of  the  few  violinists  of  my  acquaintance  to  whose  solo- 
playing  I  can  listen  with  unalloyed  pleasure.     In  the  possession  of  these 
accomplishments  she  is  unique   amongst  the   "  leading  ladies "    of  the 
operatic  stage.      I   know  of  none  other   whose  pianism   is  of  a  quality 
justifying    her    in    attempting   any    enterprise  on    the   keyboard    more 
formidable  than  a  "tumtitum"  accompaniment  "to  a  ballad  orVolkslied, 
or  who  is  capable  of  playing  a  diatonic  scale  upon  the  violin.       Madame 
de  Wartegg's  many  friends  and  countless  admirers  in  this  country  will  be 


FEB.  i,  1886.]  OUR    MUSICAL-BOX.  97 

glad  to  know  that  her  impersonation  of  Manon  has  proved  as  splendid  a 
success  in  the  United  States  as  it  did  in  Prague,  where  she  "  created"  the 
role  so  admirably  rendered  in  London  last  season  by  Madame  R6/e- 
Mapleson.  I  hear  that  her  voice,  during  her  recent  tour  through- 
America,  has  revealed  even  more  than  its  usual  richness  of  tone  and 
flexibility,  and  that  her  Manon  is  accounted  no  less  masterly  a 
performance  than  her  Carmen,  which  part  she  has  also  been  playing  to 
crowded  houses.  It  is  at  present  her  intention  to  return  to  Europe  early 
in  the  approaching  spring,  and  to  spend  a  part  of  the  season  in  London  ; 
I  hope  we  may  have  an  opportunity  of  hearing  her  in  some  of  her  favourite 
dramatic  parts — notably  in  that  of  Katharine,  in  Goetz's  "Taming  of  the 
Shrew,"  an  opera  that  I  believe  will  one  of  these  days  become  extremely 
popular  in  this  country.  No  German  prima  donna — and  they  have  all 
tried  their  hands  at  it — lias  hitherto  succeeded  in  impersonating  "  curst 
Kate  "  as  forcibly,  archly,  and  tunefully  as  has  that  versatile  American 
actress  and  songstress,  Minnie  Hauk. 


During  the  Christmas  holidays  London  enjoyed  a  brief  respite  from  the 
plague  of  concerts  with  which,  of  late  years,  her  winters  as  well  as  her 
summers  have  come  to  be  vexed.      Dearly  as   I  love  good  music,  I  have 
often  wondered  how  anyone,  save  under  such  compulsion  as  that  suffered 
by  the  professional  critic,  can  be  induced  to  attend  concerts  in  this  metro- 
polis during  the  months  of  December,   January,  and    February.      The 
distances  are  so  great,  the  weather,  as  a   rule,  is  so  hideous,  the  dangers 
of  "  catching  your  death  "  by  incurring  the  sudden  contrasts  of  tempera- 
ture afforded  by  a   stuffy,  over-heated   concert-room  and  an  east-windy, 
ice-cold  street  are  so  imminent  and  deadly,  that  the  typical  Londoner's 
passion  for  what  he  or  she  looks  upon  as  amusement  must  indeed  be  a 
devouring  one  to  impel  thousands   of  well-to-do  people  nightly  to  quit 
their  comfortable  homes,  incur  considerable  physical  inconvenience  and 
pecuniary  outlay,  injure  their  health  and  risk  their  lives,  in  order  to  put 
in  an  appearance  at  a  "  Pop,"  or  a  Ballad-Concert,  or  a  P.  F.  Recital. 
The  fact  that  Londoners  will   brave  hybernal  blasts  for  the  sake  of  a 
symphony  or  song — considering  how  complete  the  consensus  of  Conti- 
nental opinion    is  that   we  are    not  a   musical  people — is   scarcely  less 
surprising  than    the  circumstance   that  persons  residing   in  the   N.  W. 
Postal  District,  and  not  accounted  insane  by  their  relatives  and  friends, 
actually  travel  to  Sydenham  in  mid-winter  in  order  to  see  a  pantomime, 
and  to  Battersea  for  the  purpose  of  contemplating  a  "  variety  show."     Es 
muss  auch  solche  Kduze  geben  ;  doubtless,  whatever  is,  is  right.     As  soon  as 
Twelfth  Night  had  been   dismissed   to  its  ancestors— in  great  splendour 
by  Augustus  Harris,  whose  Epiphanalian  entertainment  to  his  friends  and 
"the  profession  "was  one  of  the  gayest  and  most  tasteful  festivities  I  have 
ever  attended — the  customary  functions  at  St.  James's  Hall  resumed  their 
interrupted  course,  despite  the   atrocious  state  of  Regent  Street,  left  to 
welter  in  frozen  filth  for  a  whole  week  by  an  imbecile  vestry.     Vladimir 
de  Pachmann's  amazing  technique  proved  no  less  attractive  in  winter  than 
in  summer-time  ;  the  scene  of  his  last  year's  triumphs  has  been  thronged 


98  THE    THEATRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886. 

this  year  every  time  he  has  given  a  Recital,  and  his  highly-finished 
renderings  of  Chopin  and  Henselt  have  repeatedly  stirred  great  audiences 
to  genuine  enthusiasm,  though  every  second  person  in  the  room  was 
suffering  from  some  form  of  influenza  or  bronchitis.  With  the  exception 
of  his  reappearance,  no  musical  "  event  "  of  any  abnormal  moment  came 
off  during  the  month  of  January.  It  was  a  period  of  comparative  peace- 
fulness  ;  concert-givers  had  ceased  from  troubling  and  pianists  were  at 
rest. 


Of  a  recently  published  Treatise  on  Harmony  by  that  erudite  musician, 
Mr.  E.  Silas,  I  may  say  that  it  is  equally  remarkable  for  its  lucidity  and 
compendiousness.  The  author,  in  dealing  with  a  science  rendered 
formidable  by  its  exuberance  of  termina  technica,  has  spared  no  pains  to 
make  "  the  crooked  straight  and  the  rough  places  plain."  He  has  alto- 
gether discarded  that  archaic  system  of  musical  shorthand  known  by  the 
name  of  "  Figured  Bass,"  fruitful  in  headaches  and  despair  to  earnest 
students  without  number.  As  he  explains,  it  had  its  use  "  when  the 
conductor  of  an  orchestra  had  to  fill  up  a  meagre  score  with  chord8 
played  on  a  harpsichord  or  an  organ ;  but,  unfortunately,  a  system  of 
harmony  was  founded  on  it,  which  brought  forth  a  confusion  and  compli- 
cation similar  to  the  result  which  would  ensue  if  grammar  were  founded 
on  shorthand,  instead  of  the  latter  on  the  former."  The  sections  dealing 
with  "  Chords,"  "  Pedal  Bass,"  and  "  Modulations  of  the  First  and  Second 
Order"  are  luminously  though  very  tersely  written,  and  teem  with  well- 
chosen  illustrations  of  the  rules  they  ably  set  forth.  On  the  whole,  this 
little  book  is  one  that  independent  students  will  find  invaluable,  as  facili- 
tating their  insight  into  the  rationale  of  musical  science  ;  whilst  teachers 
of  harmony  may  with  advantage  take  many  of  its  hints  in  the  direction  of 
importing  simplicity  of  diction  and  clearness  of  exposition  into  their 
methods  of  conveying  knowledge  to  their  pupils.  The  work,  a  cheap 
one,  is  published  by  Weekes  and  Co.,  of  Hanover  Street,  and  I  can 
conscientiously  recommend  it  to  the  attention  of  musicians  in  esse  atque 
in  posse. 

On  the  yth  of  last  month  an  anniversary  of  great  musical  interest  to  the 
influential  Wagner  associations  of  Northern  Germany,  and,  indeed,  to  all 
German  musicians,  was  celebrated  in  the  Royal  Opera  House  of  Berlin- 
It  was  in  that  stately  theatre  that,  exactly  thirty  years  ago,  the  great  Saxon 
master's  heroic  opera  Tannhaeuser  had  been  produced  for  the  first  time 
on  the  Prussian  stage,  with  a  cast  that  Herr  von  Huelsen  would  in  vain 
endeavour  to  match  at  the  present  date  by  the  most  carefully  selected 
draft  from  his  stock  company,  either  as  regards  individual  talent  or 
general  efficiency.  With  Theodore  Formes  as  the  Minstrel  Knight, 
Johanna  Wagner  as  Elisabeth,  the  Herrenburg-Tuczek  as  Venus,  Rad- 
waner  as  Wolfram,  and  Bost  as  the  Landgrave — all  the  minor  characters, 
moreover,  being  filled  by  thoroughly  efficient  artistes — the  premiere  of 
Tannhaeuser  was  the  great  event  of  the  1856  musical  season  in  the 
northern  Athens,  and  created  a  sensation  in  Conservative  as  well  as 


FEB.  i,  i886.]  OUR     MUSICAL-BOX.  .99 

Progressist  art-coteries  that  had  not  been  equalled  in  force  and  intensity 
since  the  production  of  Weber's  Freyschuetz,  about  a  quarter  of  a  century 
previously,  had  set  the  Berlin  Classicists  and  Romanticists  by  the  ears. 
The  peace  of  families  was  disturbed,  and  old  friendships  were  broken  up, 
by  the  bitter  controversies  that  raged  for  several  successive  weeks  after 
the  first  performance  of  Tannhaeuser  in  the  "  King's  Theatre  "  ;  but  the 
general  public  of  Berlin  pronounced  itself  so  conclusively  in  favour  of  the 
startling  novelty  by  deluging  the  administration  of  the  Hofoper  with 
applications  "  prasnumerarido,"  as  the  quaint  old  Prussian  official  vocabu- 
lary hath  it,  for  tickets  wherewith  to  attend  subsequent  repetitions  of 
Tannhaeuser,  that  the  Intendant-General  wisely  put  it  up  again  and  again. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  work  was  repeated  no  fewer  than  twenty  times 
within  the  ensuing  twelvemonth,  and  invariably  drew  crowded  houses. 
Freick  and  Salomon,  both  of  whom  are  still  active  members  of  the 
operatic  staff  at  Berlin,  though  long  since  entitled  to  service-pensions, 
were  introduced  to  the  public  of  the  Opera  House  towards  the  end  of 
May,  1856,  in  the  respective  parts  of  the  Landgrave  and  Biterolf.  Since 
that -memorable  year  the  title  role  has  been  sustained  in  Berlin  by  Brandes, 
Ferenczy,  Zottmayr,  Hoffmann,  Bachmann,  Schmid,  Hagen,  Richard, 
Kaminski,  and  Albert  Niemann ;  that  of  Elisabeth  by  Storck,  Nimbs, 
Mik,  Boerner,  Paumgartner,  Carl,  Pessiak,  Mallinger,  Voggenhuber,  and 
Hofmeister.  Fricke  and  Salomon  are  the  only  survivors  of  the  vocal 
artistes  belonging  to  the  Royal  Opera  Company  in  the  Prussian  capita, 
at  the  time  of  the  first  Tannhaeuser  production.  All  the  others  have 
joined  the  majority.  Sit  illis  terra  levis  ! 


The  recent  imprisonment  of  Rita  de  Candia,  one  of  the  three  daughters 
of  Mario  and  Grisi,  for  "unjustifiable  indebtedness"  at  Berlin  has  given 
occasion  to  the  publication,  by  a  French  contemporary,  of  some  curious 
and  highly  interesting  reminiscences  of  those  inimitable  artistes.  It 
appears  that  Rita  at  her  trial  pleaded  in  palliation  of  her  spendthriftry  that 
she  had  never  been  taught  the  value  of  money,  and  was  ignorant  of  the 
very  elements  of  arithmetic.  In  this  respect  she  was  her  father's  own 
child.  Poor  Mario,  after  earning  half-a-dozen  princely  fortunes,  died  a 
pauper  in  Rome,  leaving  nothing  to  his  children  but  the  memory  of  his 
triumphs.  How  could  it  be  otherwise  ?  At  one  and  the  same  time,  when 
in  the  zenith  of  his  popularity,  he  kept  up  a  house  in  the  Champs 
Elys6es,  a  villa  in  London,  another  in  Brighton,  and  a  palace  in  Florence, 
each  with  its  full  staff  of  servants  ;  money  slipped  through  his  fingers 
like  water  ;  he  lent  large  sums  to  innumerable  acquaintances,  kept  open 
house,  and  maintained  a  score  of  parasites  who  spoke  ill  of  him  behind 
his  back.  He  never  all  owed  Grisi  to  contribute  to  his  household  ex- 
penses ;  whatever  she  earned  was  to  be  set  aside  for  the  dowries  of  the 
three  girls.  Mario's  views  of  life  were  those  of  an  Oriental  prince. 
There  was  always  a  place  at  his  table  for  whomsoever  chose  to  occupy  it ; 
when  dinner  was  announced  by  the  major  domo,  Mario  invariably  con- 
ducted Grisi  to  the  head  of  the  table  with  his  own  hand,  and  drank  his 
first  glass  of  wine  to  her  health.  He  never  read  letters  or 


ioo  THE    THEATRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886. 

business  communications,  and  more  than  once  allowed  legal  proceedings 
taken  against  him  by  his  creditors  to  run  their  course  without  paying  the 
least  attention  to  them,  his  property  being  seized  and  sold  by  auction  for 
a  tenth  of  its  value  when  he  might  have  saved  it  by  the  exercise  of  a  little 
ordinary  care  and  prudence.  Compared  to  him,  Grisi  was  a  model  of 
exactitude.  She  rose  early  every  morning,  and  devoted  some  hours  to 
her  children,  whom  she  certainly  did  her  best  to  bring  up  in  the  way  they 
should-  go.  But  the  greater  part  of  her  time  was  daily  occupied  at  her 
toilette,  and  in  making  experiments  with  a  view  to  the  preservation  of 
her  beauty.  She  kept  her  three  maids  all  day  long  hard  at  work  dressing 
and  undressing  her  till  they  were  ready  to  drop  with  fatigue.  Every 
morning  during  the  summer  months  a  huge  bowl  of  wild  strawberries  was 
brought  to  her ;  with  handfuls  of  the  fresh  fruit  she  would  smear  her 
face,  neck,  and  hands  over  and  over  again  to  impart  softness  and  lustre  to 
the  skin.  Milk  of  almonds  was  her  favourite  beverage.  Until  dinner- 
time she  was  always  dressed  in  white  ;  at  dinner  she  generally  wore  a  low- 
necked  gown  of  black  velvet,  and  twelve  rows  of  Oriental  pearls  round 
her  throat.  All  her  fingers  were  laiden  with  diamond  rings,  and  she  often 
wore  half-a-dozen  watches  at  a  time.  She  adored  her  husband,  and  was 
madly  jealous  of  him  ;  indeed,  it  was  jealousy  that  caused  her  death. 
Mario  was  fulfilling  an  engagement  in  St.  Petersburg — she  being  at 
Florence  at  the  time — when  she  received  a  letter  from  a  female  friend  in- 
forming her  that  a  noble  young  Russian  lady  had  fallen  desperately  in 
love  with  him,  and  was  about  to  forsake  her  family  to  live  with  the  Count 
de  Candia.  Grisi  was  ailing  when  these  terrible  tidings  reached  her ;  but, 
despite  the  unfavourable  state  of  her  health,  she  started  at  once  for  St. 
Petersburg,  and  got  as  far  as  Vienna,  where  she  was  compelled  by  sheer 
suffering  to  take  to  her  bed.  Her  attendants  telegraphed  to  Mario,  who 
left  the  Russian  capital  immediately,  and  travelled  by  day  and  by  night  to 
Vienna,  only  to  find  his  beloved  Giulia  a  corpse.  She  expired  a  few 
hours  before  his  arrival.  His  despair  at  losing  her  found  expression  in 
the  wildest  extravagance  of  outlay  in  connection  with  her  funeral.  The 
birr  on  which  her  coffin  rested  was  made  of  carved  oak  and  rock  crystal, 
and  cost/^8oo;  the  lid  of  the  coffin  was  a  sheet  of  plate  glass,  through 
which  the  dead  songstress,  clad  in  white  satin,  and  adorned  with  all  her 
diamonds,  could  be  seen  lying  in  state  for  days  before  her  burial.  Mario 
retired  from  the  stage  soon  after  her  death,  divided  her  property  equally 
amongst  her  three  daughters — two  of  whom  married  well,  whilst  the 
third,  Rita,  fell  into  bad  hands,  and  committed  follies  without  number, 
the  latest  of  which  she  is  now  expiating  in  a  Prussian  gaol — and  dragged 
on  a  few  years  of  poverty  at  Rome.  Of  all  the  wealth  he  had  once 
possessed  he  left  barely  enough  behind  him  at  his  death  to  pay  the  ex- 
penses of  his  interment.  But  few  monarchs  have  been  so  sincerely  and 
universally  mourned  as  was  this  gentle,  generous,  gifted  Mario  de  Candia. 


Amongst    the  musical  novelties  that  have  reached  me  since  the  com- 
mencement of  the  year  are  several  new  songs  and  dances  published  by 


FEB.  i,  1886.]  OUR    MUSICAL-BOX.  101 

Mr.  Joseph  Williams,  of  Berners  Street.  In  one  of  the  former  Mr.  Byron 
Webber  supplies  a  spirited  exponence  of  the  "  Greater  Britain"  theory. 
The  sentiments  he  sets  forth  are  unexceptional,  from  a  patriotic  point  of 
view,  but  the  language  in  which  they  are  expressed,  though  vigorous  and 
racy,  is  more  than  once  deformed  by  careless  construction,  rendering  its 
meaning  obscure.  There  are,  however,  genuine  elements  of  popularity 
in  "Hands  Across  the  Sea,"  not  the  least  important  of  which  is  Mr. 
Florian  Pascal's  melodious  setting  of  Mr.  Webber's  stirring  words.  The 
song  will  assuredly  be  received  with  favour  in  convivial  places  of  musical 
entertainment.  "  Hearts  Ever  True  "  (words  by  Leon  Desmond,  music  by 
T.  A.  Barrett)  is  a  good  love  song  of  the  class  which  pleads  the  tender 
passion  alternately  in  common  and  £  time.  It  is  just  now  the  fashion 
that  Eros  should  open  his  case,  so  to  speak,  at  the  rate  of  four  crotchets 
to  the  bar,  and  break  out  into  a  waltz  measure  when  addressing  the  jury- 
The  initial  phrase  of  "  Hearts  Ever  True  "  reminds  me  of  "  Shells  of  the 
Ocean,"  and  I  would  rather  dance  to  its  second  subject  than  sing  it.  But 
it  is  a  good  little  song  for  all  that,  and  may  do  well  if  fully  advertised  < 
"  Fife  and  Drum,"  by  Bingham  and  Champion,  is  a  pot-boiler  in  three 
keys.  With  fine  generosity,  its  authors  point  out  in  a  foot  note  that  "no 
permission  (is)  necessary  for  (!)  singing  this  at  public  or  private  con- 
certs." This  announcement,  though  couched  in  curiously  elliptical 
English,  should  be  fraught  with  keen  and  abiding  joy  to  professional 
vocalists.  "  Truthful  Tom "  (Weatherly  and  Pascal)  is  verbally  and 
musically  humorous,  thereby  distinguishing  itself  very  agreeably  from  the 
vast  majority  of  modern  comic  songs.  Its  words  propound  the  adventures 
of  a  great  and  gifted  liar ;  its  tune  is  really  a  tune,  provided  with  a  refrain 
easily  convertible  into  a  hearty  chorus.  Country  entertainers  will  do 
well  to  dovetail  this  cheery  ballad  into  their  programmes.  I  cannot  con- 
scientiously say  as  much  of  another  of  Messrs.  Weatherly  and  Pascal's 
joint  productions,  which  professes  to  be  "  A  Capital  Tale,"  but  signally 
fails  to  fulfil  the  promise  of  its  title.  It  exemplifies  the  "  Quos  ego.  .  .  ** 
method  of  inference  in  three  several  instances ;  but  where  does  the  fun 
come  in?  "The  Gate  Immortal"  (Bingham  and  Champion)  is  a 
lugubrious  solo-anthem  for  the  drawing-room.  It  may  be  sung  with  a 
severely  depressing  effect  in  serious  families  on  Sunday  evenings.  I  will 
warrant  it  to  banish  cheerfulness,  for  the  time  being,  from  the  breasts  of 
singer  and  hearer  alike.  "  Fedora  "  is  a  lively  polka  by  Mr.  Percy 
Irwynne  ;  the  "  Blue-coat  Boy  Polka  "  has  an  uncommonly  pretty  title 
page,  representing  a  party  of  Christ's  Hospitallers  engaged  in  a  lively 
snowballing  match.  They  all  have  elegant  busts  and  slender  waists,  a 
pleasing  anachronism  at  which  Mr.  Henry  Irving  is  sweetly  smiling  as  he 
lolls  on  a  rustic  bench  under  a  Christmas  tree.  Another  waltz,  introduc- 
ing "popular  subjects  "  from  "  The  Vicar  of  Wideawakefield,"  is  enriched 
by  a  capital  portrait  of  Miss  Violet  Terriss  or  Mr.  William  Cameron— 
which  is  it  ?  From  the  Music  Publishing  Company  in  Great  Marlborough 
Street  I  have  received  a  really  charming  waltz  by'  Mr.  Hugh  Clifford.  It 
is  called  "  Olivia,"  dedicated  to  Ellen  Terry,  and  adorned  by  a  graceful 
"  counterfeit  presentment "  of  that  inimitable  artiste.  "  Olivia  "  will  be 


102  THE    THEATRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886. 

heard   in   many   a  ball-room  during  the  fashionable  season  to  come ;    I 
should  not  wonder  if  it  achieve  the  honours  of  the  barrel-organ. 


I  extract  the  following  anecdote  from  an  amusing  letter  lately  received 
from  a  musical  correspondent  in  Vienna.  "  Not  long  ago,  at  Pressburg, 
four  celebrated  personages  dined  together  en  partie  carree  at  the  famous 
old  Green  Tree,  where  cooking  is  good,  and  wine  is  old.  Their  names 
were  Annette  Essipoff,  Franz  Liszt,  Anton  Rubinstein,  and  Johannes 
Brahms.  After  dinner,  Madame  Essipoff  withdrew  into  a  salon  adjoining 
the  dining  room,  where  there  was  an  excellent  grand  piano,  at  which  she 
took  her  seat,  and  extemporised  in  the  most  delightful  maryaer  for  about 
half  an  hour,  whilst  the  three  maestri  regaled  themselves  with  coffee  and 
cigars.  As  she  returned  into  the  dining  room,  she  exclaimed  with  well- 
affected  solemnity,  '  Behold  the  great  Triumvirate  ! '  '  Triumvirate  ! ' 
rejoined  Rubinstein,  with  a  sardonic  grin,  '  that  is  rather  a  doubtful  com- 
pliment ;  at  least,  to  one  of  us.  Liszt  is  Caesar,  of  course  ;  at  a  pinch,  I 
may  pass  for  Mark  Antony  ;  what  will  Brahms  say,  however,  to  being  cast 
for  the  part  of  Lepidus  ? '  Madame  Essipoff  replied,  '  You  must  arrange 
that  amongst  yourselves  ;  let  him  whom  the  cap  fits  wear  it.  But  I  must 
have  a  lock  of  each  triumvir's  hair  for  a  bracelet,  which  I  shall  evermore 
wear  in  commemoration  of  this  splendid  conjunction  of  planets.'  Obedient 
to  her  decree,  Liszt  and  Rubinstein  bowed  their  stately  heads  to  the 
scissors,  with  which  she  deftly  snipped  away  a  couple  of  locks.  Then 
came  the  turn  of  Brahms  ;  but  he  would  by  no  means  consent  to  be  shorn 
of  his  '  capillary  attractions,'  and  a  comic  struggle  ensued,  in  the  course 
of  which  Madame  Essipoff  unluckily  scratched  the  great  composer's  thumb 
somewhat  severely  with  the  point  of  her  scissors.  As  soon  as  she  saw 
what  she  had  done,  she  laid  her  lips  to  the  wound,  after  the  manner  of 
Queen  Eleanor  of  old  ;  whereupon  Liszt  exclaimed,  in  a  sepulchral  voice, 
*  Beware!  Whosoever  shall  drink  of  this  blood  will  leceive  the  terrible 
gift  of  ability  to  understand  Hanslick's  articles  ! '  It  may  be  mentioned 
for  the  enlightenment  of  our  countrymen  that  Edward  Hanslick,  the  first 
of  living  musical  critics,  is  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  Brahms'  music,  and 
has  steadfastly  written  it  up  for  many  a  year  past." 


English  dramatic  tenors  worth  listening  to  may  be  reckoned  upon 
the  fingers  of  one  hand,  leaving  out  the  thumb.  Baritones — 
good  ones,  too — are  plentiful  in  this  country  ;  of  bass  singers,  pro- 
found and  otherwise,  there  is  no  lack.  But  a  pure  tenor  voice,  of 
good  quality  and  possessed  by  a  man  whom  Nature  has  furthermore 
endowed  with  a  musical  ear,  is  so  rare  a  product  of  these  isles  that 
its  importance  can  hardly  be  appraised  too  highly  by  the  British 
public  at  large.  This  is  why  the  premature  death  of  Mr.  Joseph 
Maas,  in  the  prime  of  life  and  fulness  of  vocal  power,  must  be  ac- 
counted a  national  calamity.  It  is,  moreover,  a  misfortune  not 
remediable  in  the  immediate  future.  In  one,  at  least,  of  the  lamented 
artistes  "lines"  of  singing — the  operatic — no  living pn 'mo  tenore  is 


FEB.  i,i886.]  OUR     MUSICAL-BOX.  I03 

qualified  to  replace  him.     Losing  Mr.  Maas,  the  Carl  Rosa  Company^ 
upon  which  English  music-lovers  are  nowadays  to  so  great  an  extent 
dependent  for  a  particular  class  of  their  favourite  recreation,  is  bereft  of 
one  of  its  main-stays.     Nearly  nine  years  had  elapsed  between   the 
date  of  his  first  connection  with  that  excellent  institution — for  it  is  no 
less— and  that  of  his  most  untimely  decease.     During  the  interval  his 
position  in  public  favour  steadily  advanced,  year  after  year,  in  right 
of  his  unremitting  and  successful  efforts  to  attain  perfection  in  his 
art,  until  he  had  reached  the  very  summit  of  popularity,  and  was 
become  invaluable  to  his  impresario  as  an  attraction  of  the  first  rank. 
From  this  enviable,  and,  in  his  case,  well-merited  station,  he  has  been 
struck  down  by  the  remorseless  hand  of  Fate,  just  when  the  burden 
and    heat  of  the  day  had   been  surmounted ;  when  the  rewards  of 
persevering  industry  were  pouring  in  ;  when,  in  a  word,  life  was  most 
satisfactory,  most  enjoyable,  most  precious.      A  more  tragical  ending 
to  a  bright  and  useful  career  is  not  within  my  remembrance.     It  will 
scarcely  bear  thinking  of.     Joseph  Maas  was  a  most  amiable,  single- 
hearted  man  ;  honest,  affectionate,  generous  ;  a  devoted  husband  and 
father,  a  staunch  friend,  a  kindly  colleague  to  his  fellow-workers,  and 
a  faithful  servant  to  the  public.       His  lot  was  cast  in  places  bristling 
with  sharp  envies  and  keen-edged  jealousies,  but  his  sweet  temper 
and  genuine  kindliness  had  power  to  blunt  them  all,  at  least,  as  far  as 
he  was  personally  concerned.     No  member  of  the  musical  profession 
could  have  been  snatched  away  thus  suddenly  whose  loss  would  have 
been  more  deeply  felt  and  sincerely  mourned  by  his  or  her  associates. 
That  such  a  life  as  his  should  have  been   sacrificed  to  a  passion  for 
sport  is  a  painful  anomaly.     Maas  was  an  assiduous  fisherman,  and 
no    climatic    intemperance    could    deter   him    from   indulging  in  his 
favourite   pastime   whenever   opportunity    offered.       It  was  impos- 
sible   to    make    him    understand    that    a  tenor  singer,   of  all  men 
living,  was  the  least  justified  in  practising   an  amusement  rendering 
wettings  and  chills   unavoidable.       During   his  last   engagement  at 
Birmingham,  just  before  Christmas,  he  went  fishing  in  bitter  weather, 
and  returned  to  London  suffering  from  acute  rheumatism,  which  soon 
passed  into  the  fever  stage,    and  eventually  killed  him.       It   avails 
nothing  now  to  conjecture  what  might  have  been,  had  he  listened  to 
the  voice  of  those  who  loved  him.     We  can  only  mourn  for  our  dead 
friend,   and   pay   our   humble    tribute   of   love  and   honour    to   his 
memory. 

\YM.  BEATTY-KINGSTON. 


I04  THE    THE  A  TRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886. 


©ur 


"  NADJEZDA." 

A  Play,  in  a  Prologue  and  Three  Acts,  by  MAURICE  BARRYMORR.   Produced  at  the  Haymarke 

Theatre,  on  Saturday,  Jan.  2,  1886. 

Characters  in  the  Prologue  :— 

Nadjezda Miss  EMILY  RIGL.  j  Janoush    MR.  ROBERT  PATEMAX. 

Praxeda    Miss  LYDIA  FOOTE.  |  Khorvitch MR.  MACKINTOSH. 

Characters  in  the  Play  :— 

Prince  Zabouroff    MR.  H.  BEERBOHM-TRKE.  j  Janoush     MR.  ROBERT  PATEMAN. 

The  Hon.  Dennis  GPHara.    MR.  FORBES  DAWSON. 
Eureka  Grubb...     ,,.     ...    Miss  GEORGINA  DRET. 


Nadine      Miss  EMILY  RIGL. 


Khorvitch     (under     the  \  M      MACKINTOSH 
nameof'BaronBarsch"))  MR'  MACKI 

Lord  Alsager    MR.  EDMUND  MAURICE. 

PaulDevereux MR.  MAURICE  BARRYMORE 

The  traditions  of  the  Haymarket  Theatre,  and  the  very  genius  loci  seem 
to  indicate  that  comedy  should  be  its  main  attraction.  It  might  be  fairly 
expected  to  increase,  if  not  "  the  gaiety  of  nations  " — the  gaiety  of  that 
debonnaire  district.  Under  the  new  regime,  however,  melodrama  of  the 
most  sombre  cast  has  been  offered — and,  it  must  be  said,  with  discourag- 
ing results — as  food  for  the  jaded  appetites  of  the  West  End,  and  the 
gloomy  horrors  of  "  Dark  Days  "  and  "  Nadjezda,"  failing  to  excite  or 
terrify,  prove  that  combination  of  dagger,  bowl,  and  revolver  of  the 
"  wicked  baronet"  or  lordly  seducer  have  either  lost  their  magic  or 
are  grown  too  familiar  from  repetition  to  have  effect.  A  bright  comedy 
from  the  French — a  prescription  from  the  hand  of  the  Gull  or  Jenner  of 
the  dramatic  faculty — say  by  Dr.  Pinero — would  probably  now  restore 
the  patient  to  health. 

"  Nadjezda  "  is  a  story  of  Russian  villainy  set  out  with  all  the  direct 
plainness  of  modern  Zolaism,  which  is,  in  truth,  little  more  than  the  old 
principle  of  "  calling  a  spade  a  spade."  Many  hard  sayings  have  been 
used  in  reference  to  this  piece — "revolting,"  "  disgusting,"  &c. — but  it  is 
only  fair  to  say  that  the  author  seems  to  have  approached  his  task  in  a 
well-meaning  spirit,  akin  to  that  in  which  he  might  have  attempted  to  deal 
with  the  story  of  Lucretia.  But  such  a  subject  would  require  the  most 
delicate  touching,  and  should  be  indicated  rather  than  touched,  and  then, 
perhaps,  like  the  famous  cucumber  preparation,  be  "  thrown  away/' 
This  supping  full  of  horrors  is,  after  all,  a  gruesome  form  of  entertain- 
ment, and  never  really  attracts  audiences.  The  sufferings  of  the  victims 
are  regarded  with  indifference — at  most  with  curiosity  ;  as  some 
Pasteur  looks  on  at  the  quivering  nerve  of  the  animal  he  is  vivisecting. 
The  story  is  simply  this: — To  save  her  husband's  life,  compromised  in 
one  of  the  innumerable  Russian  plots,  Nihilist  or  otherwise,  his  wife 
consents  to  sacrifice  herself  to  the  wishes  of  an  infamous  Governor, 
named  Zabouroff.  His  mode  of  his  executing  his  portion  of  the  bargain 
is  by  sending  the  body  of  the  husband  on  a  bier  to  the  lady's  house.  Her 


xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxvxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxA^^xxxxxxxxx^xxxxxV  • 

------;      •••      -••      --•      .-,      -->      ..;^.-,      --.         ->--,,     ..,      ..,^         .      .      ,      ..         .- 


"  Our  trade  falls  heavily  upon  these  feeble  folk." 

NAD.I  v.y.  DA. 


FROM    A    PHOTOGRAPH    BY    BARKAUD,    263,    OXFORD    STREET,    W. 


FEB.  i,  1886.]  OUR    PLAY-BOX.  105 

little  child,  who  is  present  at  the  distraction  of  this  scene,  grows  up,  and, 
through  various  successive  acts,  takes  on  herself  the  duty  of  avenger  by 
captivating  the  atrocious  Governor,  entangling  him  in  her  toils,  and 
finally  stabbing  him  to  the  heart.  Such  is  the  outline  ;  but  the  whole  is 
crudely  worked  out,  for  "  force,"  unless  under  restraint,  is  often  apt  to  be 
"  coarse."  One  of  the  sensations  of  the  day,  or  rather  the  hour  (for 
we  must  now  economise  our  time  in  emotion),  was  the  rude  and  angry 
reception  the  piece  encountered  on  the  first  night.  The  first  act,  or 
prologue,  was  well  received,  and,  in  spite  of  a  repulsive  situation,  seemed 
to  promise -an  involved  train  of  complicated  horrors.  It  was  here  that 
Miss  Rigl,  a  new  and  foreign. actress,  made  much  impression,  showing 
clearly  that  some  embers  at  least  of  the  "  sacred  fire "  were  glowing 
within,  though  a  strange  hysterical  laugh  too  often  introduced,  both  mat 
and  hors  de  propos,  caused  misgivings.  The  rest  of  the  play  did  not  answer 
this  promise,  and  many  incoherent  portions  became  so  many  challenges 
for  the  jeers  and  scoffs  of  the  evil-minded.  A  lively  controversy  arose  in 
the  papers  as  to  the  limits  of  this  form  of  disapproval.  Mr.  Gilbert  con- 
tributed a  letter  in  which  he  suggested  that  the  audience  should,  as  it 
were,  wire  down  their  hostility  till  the  act  was  over,  and  then  let  the  cork 
fly  out,  which  seems  a  little  Utopian,  as  it  assumes  a  measure  of  judicious 
self-control  not  found  in  a  popular  audience.  And  who  is  to  secure  this 
"  bottling  up,"  for  the  jesrers  enjoy  their  cruel  pastime  with  the  keenest 
relish  ?  "  Sport  to  them,  death  to  us."  Nothing,  indeed,  is  so  painful  as 
to  see  a  cultivated  woman  thus  baited,  and  there  should  at  least  be  some 
distinction  made  between  the  rlay  and  its  interpreter.  It  would  not  be 
difficult  to  distinguish  judicially  between  the  right  of  disapproval  and 
rude  interruption.  The  latter  surely  is  within  the  province  of  the  police 
of  the  house.  But  then,  what  director  would  incur  the  odium,  the  con- 
fusion, shuffling,  &c.,  of  removal  of  offenders,  possibly  causing  a  feud 
between  him  and  his  audience  that  may  be  maintained  for  years.  He 
will.be  certain  to  feel  their  vengeance  on  the  production  of  his  next 
new  play. 

Miss  Rigl  has  genuine  power  as  a  romantic  actress,  and,  wit  moreh 
restraint  and  in  a  sympathetic  character — such  as  ''  Frou-Frou  "— 
would  be  highly  effective.  On  the  succeeding  nights  the  indistinctness 
complained  of  in  her  utterance,  owing  to  a  natural  nervousness,  disap- 
peared. Another  actress,  Miss  Drew,  played  an  American  lady 
in  a  fashion  which  seemed  to  be  unacceptable,  but  which  under  other, 
conditions  would  have  seemed  original  enough,  and  amusing.  It  could 
be  classed  fairly  enough  with  such  eccentricities  as  Dundreary.  Mr. 
Beerbohm  Tree  has  received  much  praise  for  his  "character-part"  as 
the  scoundrel  Russian,  and  deservedly,  though  there  is  a  danger  of  he  and 
Mr.  Brookfield  falling  into  the  same  line,  viz.,  of  training  their  voice  and 
gestures  to  the  "  mincing  "  movements  of  old  age.  Much  sympathy  is 
due  to  the  new  lessees — Mr.  Bashford  and  Mr.  Russell — who  must  not 
be  discouraged.  With  a  spirited  comedy,  tout  peut  sc  retablir. 

PERCY    FITZGERALD. 


106  THE    THEATRE.  [FEB. ,,  ,886. 


©uv  ©mnibus^Boy. 

Mr.  John  Coleman  has  put  on  record  his  "  Memoirs  of  Samuel  Phelps  " 
(Remington),    the   fine   old   actor  who  so   worthily  sustained  the  best 
traditions   of    the    English    stage    between     the    death    of  Macready 
and  the  advent  of  the  influence  of    Henry  Irving.     Playgoers  of  two 
generations   at  least  will  greedily  devour  the  pages  of  Mr.    Coleman's 
book.     Macreadyites  will    here    find    many   a    faded  recollection,  and 
it    will   be   eagerly  studied   by  many   who  first  drank  of  the  dramatic 
spring   of    poetry   in    the   old   pit  of    Sadler's    Wells    Theatre   during 
the  famous  management  of  Phelps  and  Greenwood.     The  book  is  rather 
anecdotical  than  critical,  but  we  all  know  that  when  Mr.  Coleman  does 
give  his  opinion  on  actors,  authors,  or  journalists  he  is  not  nicely  mouthed. 
Accidentally,  no  doubt,  some  of  the  stories  and  conversations  recorded 
here   leave   behind  them  an  undeserved   sting.     Charles   Fechter  was 
certainly  not  the  bumptuous  mountebank  he  is  here  represented  to  be, 
and  he  was  certainly  a  better  actor  than  Mr.  Coleman  asserts  he  was.    It 
would   be   interesting  to   know  what  English  actor  of  his  time  could 
approach  him  in  stage  love-making,  its  earnestness,  its  grace,  its  fervour, 
or  its  intensity,   or  what  melodramatic  performance  of  the  last  five-and- 
twenty  years  could  compare  with  Fechter's  Ruy  Bias.     It  is  all  very  well 
to  sneer  at  Fechter,  but  with  all  his  faults  and  eccentricities   he  was  the 
first  to  register  a  protest  against  the  mouthing,  roaring,  ranting  school  of 
tragedian,    the  blatant,  swaggering,   self-conscious  impostors,   who  all 
considered  they  were  Macreadys  or  Phelps's,  because  they  had  caught  the 
rough  edges  of  their  pronounced  manner.     No  one  can  have  forgotten 
the  howl  of  execration  that  greeted  Fechter  and  his  revivalism.     He 
pioneered  the  renaissances  of  natural  art  as  compared  to  bellowing  Bulls 
of  Bashan,  who  split  our  ears  and  murdered  the  text  of  Shakespeare.  But, 
thank  goodness,  Fechter  was  not  hounded  out  of  the  country,  or  hissed 
off  our  boards  as  some  of  his  countrymen  had  been  before  him.     He  was 
accepted  for  what  he  was  worth.     Protection  in  its  worst  form  was  at  an 
end.     We  studied  the  greatest   French,    German,    and    Italian    actors, 
imitating  what  was  good    in    their    art,  and    rejecting  what  was    bad. 
Some  day  it  will  have  to  be  pointed  out  what  an   important  influence 
Fechter   had   on   that  measure   of    stage    reform    that    is  felt    to-day 
and    almost    universally    prevails.      The    rubbish    about  "  taking    the 
bread  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  poor  English    actor  was  exploded  before 
the     year     1867,    and    mainly    owing    to     the     man     whose     career 
in  this  country  receives  little  else  but  a  few  gratuitous  sneers.  "  Fechter, 
who  had  feminine  proclivities,  and  was  as  hysterical  as  a  woman,  was 


FEB.  i,  i886.]  OUR    OMXIBUS-BOX.  107 

taken  suddenly  ill  with  an  attack  of  the  spleen,  which  caused  the  epigas- 
trium to  swell  out  into  abnormal  dimensions  ;  hence  he  collapsed  at  the 
end  of  the  second  act."  And  all  this  because  he  had  dared  to  play 
Hamlet !  It  is  a  pity  that  a  volume  so  full  of  facts  intermingled 
with  its  fancies  should  not  have  been  carefully  indexed.  Some  of  the  play 
bills  and  notes  from  diaries  are  very  valuable.  No  one  will  care  to  have 
it  remembered  of  dear  old  Mr.  Chippendale  that  he  had  never  heard 
when  he  was  playing  at  the  Haymarket  Theatre  of  Phelps,  or  of  the 
Princess's  Theatre !  Surely  the  good  fellows  at  the  Court  must  have 
been  chaffing  Mr.  Coleman  that  evening;  but  the  events  of  several 
dramatic  seasons  in  which  Phelps  figured  are  most  interesting.  We  all 
know  Mr.  Coleman  to  be  a  most  loyal  defender  of  his  profession,  and  as 
a  doughty  champion  he  has  often  broken  a  lance  in  favour  of  the 
misjudged  actor.  We  may  hope,  therefore,  that  his  book  will  not  fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  over  cynical  or  contemptuous,  for  pages  more  full 
of  oaths  have  scarcely  ever  been  presented  to  the  public.  Every  actor 
seems  to  interlard  his  conversation  with  a  "  by  G — !"  or  a  hearty  "  d — n!" 
Macready  and  Phelps  never  appear  to  speak  without  an  oath. 

"  The  d— 1  you  do,"  growled  Phelps  ;    "  well,  d — n  your  impudence  !  " 

On  the  other  hand,  as  he  got  into  his  cab,  Phelps  growled — 

"  After  all,  John,  he's  not  a  bad  fellow  for  a  Frenchman,  but  by  G — 
he  can't  act  Shakespeare  !  " 

4<  That  be  d d,  sir,"  roared  Macready,  as  I  turned  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Who  said  that  you  were  to  go  to  jail,  or  your  wife  and  children  to ? 

Don't  talk  stuff  and  nonsense." 

Here  is  another  pretty  anecdote  to  delight  the  scoffers  of  the  stage  : — 

"As  to  Macduff,  I  don't  know  how  often  I  have  played  him  ;  I  think 
every  Monday  night  during  the  season.  Of  course  you've  heard  of  the 
row  during  the  fight.  *  Mac '  let  fly  at  me,  nearly  giving  me  a  crack  on 
the  head,  as  he  growled — 

"  *  D — n  your  eyes  !  take  that  ! ' 

"  For  the  moment  I  was  flabbergasted,  but  when  he  returned  to  the 
charge  I  gave  him  a  dose  of  his  own  physic  (adding  to  the  oath  not  only 
his  eyes,  but  his  limbs  too  !).  He  returned  the  compliment  by  heaping 
maledictions  on  my  seed,  breed,  and  generation.  Then  he  'went'  for 
me,  and  I  *  went '  for  him,  and  there  we  were  growling  at  each  other  like 
a  pair  of  wild  beasts,  until  I  finished  him,  amidst  a  furore  of  applause. 

"  The  audience  were  quite  carried  away  by  the  'cunning  of  the  scene/ 
and  shouted  themselves  hoarse,  roaring  on  the  one  side,  '  Well  done, 
'  Mac ' !  on  the  other,  '  Let  him  have  it,  Phelps  !  ' 

"  When  the  curtain  fell  I  gave  him  my  hand  to  get  up.  He  was  puffing 
and  blowing  like  a  grampus. 

"As  soon  as  he  could  recover  his  wind  he  commenced — 

'' '  Kr-er-r,  Mr.  Phelps.  what  did  you  mean  by  making  use  of  that 
extraordinary  language  to  me  ?  ' 

"  *  What  did  you  mean,  Mr.  Macready,  by  making  use  of  such  extraor- 
dinary language  to  me?' 

'"I,  sir"?1 

"  '  Yes,  you,  sir  !     You  d— d  my  eyes  ?  ' 

NEW  SERIES— VOL.  VII.  I 


io8  THE    THE  A  TRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886. 

"  '  And  you  sir,  d — d  my  limbs  ! ' 

"  '  I  could  do  no  less  than  follow  so  good  an  example.' 

"With  this  the  absurdity  of  the  thing  struck  us  both,  and  we  burst  out 
laughing." 

After  such  flowers  of  speech  who  wonders  that  the  "  growlers  and 
roarers  "  were  imitated  in  turn  ?  We  have  changed  all  that.  We  don't 
believe  Henry  Irving's  vocabulary  will  be  illustrated  by  a  single 
damn  ! 


In  February,  1885,  about  a  dozen  young  actors  and  acresses — most  of 
them  junior  members  of  Mr.  Wilson  Barrett's  Company — formed  them- 
selves, in  a  quiet,  unassuming  way,  into  a  society  for  promoting  the 
study  of  dramatic  literature,  and  obtaining  increased  practice  in  their 
art.  In  the  course  of  a  twelvemonth,  the  Society  of  Dramatic 
Students  has  grown  to  be  an  acknowledged  institution,  and  was  even 
alluded  to  by  the  Professor  of  English  Literature  in  his  last  lecture 
before  the  University  of  Cambridge  as  "  one  of  the  most  encouraging 
signs  which  dramatic  literature  is  making  in  our  day."  This  young 
and  vigorous  Society  has,  in  the  course  of  its  first  year's  existence, 
given  three  matinees  in  London,  namely  : — 

"  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  "  (Vaudeville),  igth  June,  1885. 
Charles  Lamb's  farce  « Mr  H."        J  Qctob 

Douglas  Jerrold  s  "  Housekeeper"  )  v 
Dryden's  "  Secret  Love"  (Court),  igth  January,  1886. 
At  these  performances,  not  only  was  every  actor  a  "Dramatic 
Student,"  and  every  super,  too — for  it  is  a  rule  that  "  all  who  are  not 
cast  for  speaking  parts  must  assist  otherwise  on  the  stage  if  required  " 
— but  the  stage  manager  and  the  acting  manager,  also  ;  in  fact,  all  the 
multifarious  business  which  a  matinee  involves  is  undertaken  by  the 
officers  of  the  Society.  That  the  plays  revived  have  borne  out  the 
avowred  intention  "  to  produce  the  best  plays  in  the  English  language, 
especially  those  little  known  to  the  stage,"  may  fairly  be  claimed. 
Shakespeare's  comedy  had  not  seen  the  light  in  London  since  Daven- 
port opened  the  Olympic  Theatre  thirty  years  ago  ;  Lamb's  exquisite 
farce,  which  was  a  stock  piece  for  many  years  in  Philadelphia,  had 
never  been  revived  m^London  (except  by  amateurs)  since  its  fatal 
first  night  on  Wednesday,; loth  December,  1 806 ;  while  Dryden's  "  Secret 
Love  " — albeit  the  best  specimen  of  high  comedy  by  the  best  poet  of 
the  Restoration  period — had  only  been  played  once  since  its  produc- 
tion in  1667,  and  that  was  at  Mr.  Cross's  benefit  in  1706.  In  choosing 
to  represent  the  neglected  works  of  great  authors,  rather  than  well- 
known  acting-plays, the  "Dramatic  Students"  have  avoided  all  odious 
comparisons  with  their  seniors,  and  have  attracted  to  their  performances 
an  unusually  literary  audience.  Even  such  an  untheatrical  paper 
as  Notes  and  Queries  sent  a  representative  to  criticise  "  Mr.  H.,"  while 
the  Professor  of  English  Literature  at  University  College  "  cut  "  his 
lectures  and  brought  his  class  to  the  pit  to  witness  Dryden's  comedy 


FEB.  i,i886.]  OUR   OMNIBUS-BOX.  I09 

of  "  Secret  Love."  But  the  work  of  the  Society  is  by  no  means  limited 
to  public  performances.  There  is  a  General  Committee,  consisting  of 
three  ladies  and  seven  gentlemen,  which  meets  regularly  every  week 
to  elect  new  members  and  discuss]  any  subjects  connected  with  the 
welfare  of  the  Society.  There  is  a  Reading  Committee,  consisting  of 
one  lady  and  three  gentlemen,  which  carries  on  its  work  of  research 
at  the  British  Museum. 


The  manner  in  which  new  plays  are  selected  is  very  syste- 
matic. First  of  all  the  Reading  Committee  chooses  a  chrono- 
logical period,  such  as  "  the  Drama  of  the  Restoration."  After  a 
lengthened  study  of  the  plays  of  this  period  has  been  made,  and  a 
catalogue  of  100  or  so  likely  plays  compiled,  a  final  list  of  four  different 
bills  is  submitted  to  the  Society  in  the  form  of  a  printed  catalogue 
riiisonuc,  containing  the  casts,  abstracts  of  the  plots,  and  such 
comments  upon  the  merits  of  the  plays  as  may  be  found  in  the  writings 
of  eminent  authors.  The  four  from  which  "  Secret  Love"  was  chosen 
included  Congreve's  "Way  of  the  World,"  Steele's/'  Tender  Husband," 
and  Mrs.  Centlivre's  "  Bold  Stroke  for  a  Wife."  The  play  is  chosen 
at  a  General  Meeting  by  ballot  of  all  the  members  (absent  ones  for- 
warding their  votes)  after  an  open  discussion  upon  the  suitability  of 
the  pieces  submitted.  The  stage  manager  is  next  elected,  and 
proceeds  at  once  to  cut  the  play,  in  which  task  he  is  assisted  and 
guided  by  the  Reading  Committee.  As  soon  as  the  acting  version  is 
prepared  the  General  Committee  casts  the  play,  and  the  Round-Table 
(or  meeting  of  the  cast)  is  held  to  read  and  discuss  it.  After  some 
fifteen  or  twenty  full  rehearsals  the  play  is  presented  to  the  public.  It 
is  proposed,  in  order  to  afford  opportunities  of  practice  to  those  who 
.are  not  cast,  to  put  in  rehearsal  (but  not  to  perform  publicly)  the  play 
which  obtains  the  second  largest  number  of  votes.  The  genius  of 
the  Society  is  work,  but  the  recreation  element  is  not  entirely  absent. 
Social  meetings  held  at  the  houses  of  the  Lady  Vice-Presidents  form 
an  important  part  of  the  scheme.  At  these  popular  "  five  o'clocks," 
there  are  songs  and  music,  tea  and  talk,  while  occasionally  some 
distinguished  visitor  will  give  an  arm-chair  chat  upon  some  dramatic 
subject  which  he  has  made  his  own.  Before  the  "  Two  Gentlemen 
of  Verona"  was  played  Professor  Henry  Morley  discoursed  upon  this 
comedy  at  a  "  Social  "  held  at  Mr.  Charles  Dickens's.  In  this  fearure  of 
their  movement  the  students  have  discovered  a  very  practical  way  of 
healing  the  breach  between  literature  and  the  stage. 

This  institution  appears  to  have  a  future  before  it  in  many 
directions.  For  instance,  there  is  not — and  we  believe  there  never 
has  been — among  the  learned  societies  of  London  a  Histrionic  Society. 
Now,  the  "  Dramatic  Students  "  have  not  only  a  Reading  Committee, 
whose  work  we  have  briefly  described,  but  also  Sub-Committees  for 
the  investigations  of  points  which  arise  in  connection  with  costume 

F     2 


IIO  THE  THEATRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886. 

and  music.  Why  should  not  these  three  sections  of  the  Society  embody 
their  researches  in  printed  transactions,  and  why  should  not  the  members 
read  papers  before  their  fellows  upon  various  dramatic  subjects  which 
they  have  especially  studied  ?  The  Society  has  already  started  a  theatrica 
library  by  means  of  loans  and  gifts  from  its  members,  and  it  is  hoping 
soon  to  have  a  local  habitation  as  well  as  a  name.  If  the  students 
continue  to  prosecute  their  labours  as  zealously  as  they  have  begun, 
the  day  may  not  be  far  distant  when  their  institution  shall  be  recog- 
nised as  a  learned  body.  But  if  there  is  a  future  for  the  Society  in  its 
theoretical  aspect,  there  is  no  less  prospect  of  :its  development  as  a 
practical  school  for  acting.  Arrangements  of  a  private  nature  have 
already  been  made  with  Mr.  Hermann  Vezin,  Herr  Behnke,  Capt. 
Griffiths,  and  others,  by  which  classes  of  dramatic  students  may 
receive  training  in  various  departments  of  their  art  at  considerably 
reduced  fees,  and  there  is  no  telling  how  much  this  part  of  the  scheme 
may  not  be  extended  in  the  future.  Like  the  rat  at  Ispahan,  the 
dramatic  students  have  many  friends.  Not  only  have  eminent  men  of 
letters  aided  them  with  their  advice,  and  the  critics  given  them  every 
possible  encouragement,  but  well-known  lovers  of  the  drama  have 
offered  them  monetary  aid  (which  they  have,  however,  refused),  and 
the  leading  managers  have  not  only  lent  their  names  as  patrons,  and 
granted  the  use  of  their  theatres  gratuitously  for  the  matinee  as  well 
as  the  previous  rehearsals,  but  by  their  presence  in  the  boxes  in 
goodly  numbers  they  have  helped  considerably  to  increase  the  general 
interest  of  the  performances.  We  may  add,  for  the  benefit  of  any 
young  actors  and  actresses  who  may  be  desirous  of  becoming 
"  Dramatic  Students,"  that  anyone  who  has  had  a  salaried  engage- 
ment, and  has  definitely  determined  to  follow  the  stage  as  a  profession, 
is  eligible  for  membership,  provided  he  can  find  two  students  (one  of 
whom  must  be  a  personal  friend)  to  propose  and  second  him.  The 
blackball  rule  is  somewhat  severe,  for  the  committee  is  anxious  only 
to  admit  such  candidates  as  are  likely  to  prove  both  valuable  and 
acceptable  to  the  Society,  and. to  exclude  both  raw  recruits  who  have 
shown  no  fitness  for  their  profession,  and  older  actors  whose  style  is 
already  formed,  and  whose  influence  would  be  chilling.  There  are 
at  present  50  members,  and  it  is  somewhat  significant  of  the  altered 
state  of  threatrical  affairs  that  the  hon.  treasurer  is  an  old  Marlborough 
captain,  and  the  hon.  secretary  a  former  vice-president  of  the  Cam- 
bridge Union,  while  other  public  school  boys  and  graduates  of  the 
Old  Universities  are  enrolled  on  the  list  of  members. 


On  Monday,  January  4,  previous  to  the  ill-fated  "  Nadjezda,"  was  pro- 
duced at  the  Haymarket  a  light  piece  by  Mr.  Percy  Fitzgerald,  entitled 
"  Room  70."  This  seemed  to  be  a  revival  of  the  older  form  of  farce, 
the  humour  arising  out  of  attempts  at  getting  rid  of  a  compromising- 
beard,  which  are  frustrated  by  all  sorts  of  awkward  contretemps.  It  was 
acted  with  much  spirit,  notably  by  Mr.  Forbes  Dawson,  the  hero  of  the 
adventure. 


VXXXXXXXXWXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX^V^ 


xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxvw* 


FROM    A.   PHOTOGRAPH    BY    MARTIN    AND    SALLNOW,   416,    STRAND,    W.C. 


FEB.  i,  1886.]  OUR    OMNIBUS-BOX.  in 

Mr.  Frank  Lindo  gave  the  first  Recital  of  his  third  annual  series  on 
January  I2th  at  Stein  way  Hall.  Despite  the  inclemency  of  the 
weather,  the  attendance  was  good.  Miss  Cowen  was  in  the  audience,, 
and  seemed  to  follow  the  young  reciter  with  much  interest.  Mr. 
Lindo  is  ambitious,  but  justifiably  so  ;  he  has  much  improved  since 
last  year — that  is,  in  serious  pieces  ;  in  a  purely  comic  vein  he  is  not 
heard  to  best  advantage.  "My  First  and  Last  Appearance"  and 
*  Ferdinando  and  Elvira  "  were  not  made  the  most  of  by  him  ;  in  such 
pieces  his  pronunciation  is  not  so  good,  and  he  makes  the  mistake  of 
appearing  amused  at  what  he  is  relating.  Before  I  forget  it,  I  have 
a  bit  of  advice  to  give  to  Mr.  Lindo.  His  scanning  the  audience 
critically  and  nodding  to  particular  friends  when  he  first  appears  on 
the  platform  is  not  in  good  taste,  and  does  not  impress  the  general 
public  in  his  favour.  Now  for  the  good  points.  Mr.  Frank  Lindo 
has  a  rich  sympathetic  voice,  and  much  earnestness  and  feeling. 
Where  pathos  is  required  he  is  at  his  best ;  nor  does  he  lack  power, 
though  there  is  still  room  for  his  acquiring  more  of  it  ;  and  his  con- 
ception of  serious  pieces  is  generally  good.  "Only  a  Mountebank," 
by  Re  Henry,  which  followed  "The  Curfew  Bell,"  was  very  good  and 
touching.  Marc  Antony's  speech  from  "Julius  Caesar"  was  a  trifle 
hurried,  but  delivered  with  much  dignity  and  power.  His  spirited 
rendering  of  Macaulay's  "Virginia  "  I  should  pronounce  excellent — 
one  of  the  best  interpreted  pieces  in  Mr.  Frank  Lindo's  repertory  but 
for  the  assumed  voice  of  Virginius,  which  is  simply  grotesque,  and 
entirely  out  of  place.  "The  Story  of  Stowaway"  (Clement  Scott) 
was  good  in  the  beginning  and  the  end,  but  it  rather  lacked 
spirit,  and  light  and  shade  in  the  middle.  "  Rubinstein's  Piano  " 
was  very  well  interpreted,  but  the  reciter  still  misses  the  climax  ; 
like  last  year,  it  was  too  tame.  Mr.  Frank  Lindo  is,  I  believe, 
only  twenty.  He  is  intelligent  and  gifted,  and  if  he  will  bear 
in  mind  that  perfection  is  a  thing  ever  to  be  striven  for,  and  never  to- 
be  considered  as  attained,  he  is  on  the  right  road  to  become  one  of 
our  best  reciters  in  his  line.  But  he  is  not  gifted  with  versatility,  and 
I  fear  will  never  become  a  good  comic.  Mr.  Algernon  H.  Lindo  was 
the  pianist,  and  Mr.  Isidore  De  Lara  the  vocalist,  meeting  with  his 
accustomed  success.  As  an  encore  he  gave  "  Les  Myrthes  sout 
Fletris,"  a  song  particularly  well  suited  to  him. 


On  January  i6th,  at  St.  George's  Hall,  Carleton  D.C.  repeated 
their  performance  of  '<  The  Ladies'  Battle."  The  acting  gave  me  no 
cause  to  reverse  the  opinion;!  expressed  last  month.  Mrs.  Conyersd'Arcy 
had  altered  her  hair,  and  Miss  Findon  her  dress,  for  the  better,  but 
I  must  take  exception  at  the  quantity  of  diamonds  worn  by  the  young 
lady.  Married  women  alone  wear  them  in  France,  and  they  are 
unsuited  to  a  child  of  sixteen  in  any  country.  I  should  also  like  to 
suggest  to  the  Countess  that  it  is  not  very  ladylike  to  stamp  one's- 


ii2  THE    THEATRE.  [FEE  i,  1886. 

foot  so  violently,  even  when  angry.  This  play  was  preceded  by  "  A 
Crimeless  Criminal,"  with  Mr.  J.  M.  Powell  in  the  chief  character. 
This  amusing  trifle  was  fairly  acted  all  round,  Miss  Knewstub  being 
very  good  as  the  old  landlady.  But  I  am  sorry  to  notice  a  great  spirit 
of  carelessness  which  seems  to  possess  the  Carleton  D.C.  of  late. 
The  members  are  seldom  sure  of  their  words,  and  often  seem  to  be 
thinking  of  something  else  than  their  parts.  The  Carleton  used  to  be 
-one  of  the  best  A.D.C.'s,  but  they  are  evidently  forgetting  that  not  to 
progress  is  to  retrograde.  Nothing  is  stationary  in  art. 

The  most  remarkable  thing  about  Mr.  Derrick's  play  is  that  while  it 
pleased  the  first  night  'audience  it  has,  as  far  as  I  have  seen,  displeased 
the  critics.  How  is  such  a  discrepancy  to  be  explained  ?  It  is  a  phe- 
nomenon of  rare  occurence,  happily  for  the  critics,  for  in  the  theatrical 
matters  above  all  others  the  axiom  that  the  vox  populi  is  the  vox  Dei  holds 
good,  always  supposing  that  a  fairly  representative  section  of  the  public  is 
-concerned.  The  surest  way  of  arriving  at  a  solution  of  the  problem  is 
evidently  to  take  account  of  one's  own  impressions  of  the  play  in  detail, 
and  to  recall  them  as  far  as  possible  in  the  order  in  which  they  were 
experienced.  Judging  "  Plebeians  "  in  this  manner,  I  would  describe  it  as 
a  play  that  excites  curiosity  without  satisfying  it.  It  holds  our  attention 
for  the  time  being,  but  when  examined  afterwards  in  the  light  of  reason  it 
is  seen  to  be  radically  hollow,  and  false  as  a ;  study  of  contemporary 
manners.  The  true  verdict  of  the  public  on  "  Plebeians,"  I  fancy,  was  to 
have  been  gathered,  not  in  the  theatre  itself,  when  they  were  still  under 
the  influence  of  a  certain  amount  of  dexterous  stage  craft,  but  in  the  two- 
penny omnibuses  which  bore  them  home  to  Clapham  and  Camberwell 
after  reflection  had  come  to  their  aid.  Let  me  illustrate  this  thesis  briefly. 
The  piece  is  in  three  acts.  In  the  first  act  we  are  in  the  rooms  of  the 
Hon.  Danby  Cleeve,  which,  by  the  way,  appear  to  be  furnished  with  the 
cheapest  bric-a-brac,  and  resemble  much  more  a  Guilford  Street  lodging- 
house  than  a  bachelor's  comfortable  quarters  in  Jermyn  Street,  or  one  of 
the  Inns.  What  manner  of  man  is  this  aristocrat  ?  As  embodied  by 
Mr.  Thos.  Thorne,  he  is  a  limp  and  feeble  creature,  living  under  the 
benevolent  despotism  of  a  well-meaning,  but  tiresome  man-servant  of  the 
-old  family  retainer  type  that  went  out  with  the  Georges.  Personally  he 
has  nothing  in  him  to  interest  us,  but  he  receives  a  succession  of  strange, 
and  it  may  be  said,  interesting  visitors.  There  is  first  a  vulgar,  self-made 
man  hailing  from  Brixton,  who  describes  himself  as  a  retired  brewer  with 
a  large  fortune  and  a  marriageable  daughter,  and  who  offers  the  "  honour- 
able "  ^"15,000  if  he  will  condescend  to  marry  this  young  lady.  This  is 
certainly  an  odd  proceeding,  but  before  we  have  time  to  realise  its 
absurdity,  nowsver,  Mr.  Basil  Brown  retires,  and  another  visitor  is 
announced.  The  new  comer  is  Mr.  Israel  Ferguson,  a  flourishing  money- 
lender, who  has  a  more  extraordinary  mission  still,  inasmuch  as  he  makes 
a  bid  of  ^"20,000  for  the  honour  of  Mr.  Cleeve's  alliance  with  his  daughter. 
Next  comes  Miss  Wentworth,  a  confiding  young  lady,  to  beg  the 
"  honourable,"  in  spite  of  his  being  an  entire  stranger,  to  obtain  informa- 


FI:I,  i,  1886.]  OUR  OMNIBUS-BOX.  113 

tion  for  her  as  to  the  fate  of  her  fiance,  who  is  overdue  at  sea ;  and  finally 
we  have  a  family  solicitor,  who  announces  that  the  tardy  mariner  has 
been  drowned,  and  that  the  "honourable"  is  heir  to  his  property  of 
£"100,000.  "My  luck  is  her  misfortune,"  sighs  Mr.  Danby  Cleeve, 
alluding  to  the  young  lady  who  has  just  left  him,  and  the  act-drop 
descends.  A  very  curious  act  is  this.  It  shows  us  no  more  human  nature 
than  a  wax-work  containing  a  set  of  burlesque  figures,  but  it  presents  a 
dramatic  combination  that  we  feel  we  should  like  to  unravel.  What  is 
the  "  honourable  "  to  do  under  these  conflicting  circumstances  ?  Is  he 
to  marry  Miss  Belinda  Brown  with  her  fifteen  thousand  pounds,  or  Miss 
Miranda  Ferguson  with  her  twenty  thousand  ?  Is  he  to  console  the  dis- 
appointed bride,  whose  fortune  has  been  diverted  to  him,  or  is  he  to 
make  ducks-and-drakes  of  the  money,  and,  somewhat  late  in  the  day,  take 
to  the  sort  of  life  that  every  right-minded,  and  blue-blooded  bachelor 
oucrht  to  lead  ? 


Grotesque  as  the  various  characters  are,  the  questions  they  raise 
occupy  our  attention  more  or  less,  and  so  we  await  with  patience  the 
development  of  the  story.  I  am  now  explaining,  be  it  understood,  the 
attitude  of  the  first-night  audience  towards  the  play.  In  view  of  the 
perplexity  and  uncertainty  thrown  around  the  exposition  of  the  subject,  I 
doubt  whether  any  first-night  "  wrecker"  could  have  had  the  hardihood 
at  this  point  to  guy  the  performance.  It  is  necessary  to  know  an  author's- 
intentions  before  we  can  ridicule  them,  and,  judging  by  the  first  act,  the 
most  experienced  playgoer,  I  think,  could  not  have  hazarded  a  guess  as 
to  Mr.  Derrick's  probable  denouement.  It  matters  little,  perhaps,  in  the 
long  run  whether  an  author  puzzles  an  audience  or  bores  them,  both 
courses  being  fatal  to  success  ;  but  to  be  able  to  keep  their  judgment  in 
suspense  saves  him  at  least  from  immediate  unpleasantness,  and  that 
amount  of  credit  may  be  conceded  to  the  author  of  "  Plebeians."  In  the 
second  act,  where  the  whole  of  the  dramatis  persona  are  assembled  under 
the  hospitable  roof  of  Mr.  Basil  Brown  at  Candy  Lodge,  Brixton,  Mr. 
Derrick  pursues  the  same  tactics.  We  never  know  quite  what  he  is 
driving  at.  The  Hon.  Danby  Cleeve  appears  to  be  slightly  smitten  with 
the  charms'of  Miss  Belinda  Brown,  but,  at  the  same  time,  he  finds  Miranda 
a  very  sensible  girl,  and  betrays  quite  a  pathetic  interest  in  Miss  Went- 
worth.  Some  foolish  rivalry  on  the  part  of  the  match-making  papas  does 
not  throw  any  light  on  the  situation.  No  !  We  make  up  our  minds  to 
wait  till  the  third  act  for  the  mot  dc  Venigme,  and  then,  as  might  have 
been  expected,  returning  with  the  whole  of  the  characters  to  the  scene  of 
the  first  act,  we  discover  that  our  speculations  have  been  vain  —that  there 
is,  in  fact,  no  dramatic  problem  of  character  or  incident  to  solve.  Miss 
Wentworth  and  her  sorrows  have  been  introduced  as  a  disturbing 
clement  into  our  calculations,  only  to  be  withdrawn  again,  her  shipwrecked 
lover  being  restored  to  her  arms.  Miranda,  who  has  never  really  been 
entered  for  the  matrimonial  stakes  at  all,  pairs  off  with  a  school-boy 
sweetheart  of  her  own  choosing  ;  while  the  Hon.  Danby  Cleeve  prosaically 
does  what  the  astute  brewer  originally  proposed  that  he  should  do,  namely, 


ii4  THE     THEATRE.  [FEB.  i,  1886. 

marry  Miss  Belinda.  Throughout  the  play  we  look  for  something  that 
never  comes,  and  before  we  fully  realise  the  barrenness  of  the  subject  the 
curtain  has  come  down,  the  actors  have  taken  their  calls,  and  the 
performance  appears  to  be  crowned  with  success.  I  have  endeavoured  in 
this  rapid  analysis  to  reconcile  the  leniency  of  the  public  towards  the 
piece  with  the  condemnation  passed  upon  it  by  the  critics.  Funda- 
mentally there  can  be  no  disagreement  between  the  two  parties.  Mr. 
Derrick  creates  his  dramatic  effects  by  the  device  known  as  "  trailing  a 
herring  across  the  path,"  or  putting  us  on  a  false  scent,  and  whatever 
interest  may  be  aroused  for  the  moment  in  a  mass  of  spectators  by  such 
means,  it  is  impossible  that  any  piece  written  on  these  lines  should 
achieve  an  enduring  success.  The  public  will  inevitably  feel  that  they 
"have  been  trifled  with. 


Mr.  Derrick  appears  to  me  to  be   at  fault,  not  so  much  in  the  subject 
he  has  selected  for  treatment  as  in  his  manner  of  treating  it.    "  Plebeians  " 
is  a  farcical  piece,  and,  improbable  as  it  may  be  that  wealthy  brewers  and 
money-lenders  should  run  after  a  penniless  "  honourable  "  and  bribe  him 
with  large  sums  to  marry  their  respective  daughters,  there  is  no  reason 
why,  for  farcical  purpose,  they  should  not  do  so.      It  is  not  to  the  actual, 
or  to  the  probable,  that  the  farce  writer  need  confine  himself.     He  is  free 
to  deal  with  the  merely  conceivable,  as   anyone  will  see  who  glances  at 
the  successful  farcical  comedies,  whether  French  or  English,  of  recent 
years.     But  if  an  author  leaves  aside  what  is,  or  what  has  been,  in  real 
life,  and  takes   what  might  be  as  material  for  farce,   he  is   bound  to 
illustrate  it  with  truthful  sketches  of  character,  based  upon  apt  observa- 
tion.     And  here  Mr.  Derrick  has  failed.      Are  the  Hon.  Danby  Cleeve, 
Mr.    Basil    Brown,    and    Mr.    Israel   Ferguson    recognisable    types    of 
character  ?     I  have  never  met  them.     Their  motions  and  actions  are  not 
governed  by  the  ordinary  conditions  of  life.      This  is  doubly  apparent  in 
the  case  of  the  Hon.  Danby  Cleeve,  whose  aristocratic  distinction  and 
attempted  sentimentality  find  very  inadequate  expression  in  Mr.  Thomas 
Thorne.     In  the  hands  of  Mr.  Fred  Thorne  and  Mr.  Grove,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  portraits  of  the  brewer  and  the  money-lender  are  grossly  over- 
coloured,  but  this  is  perhaps  a  pardonable  attempt  on  the  part  of  the 
actors  to  infuse  fun  into  a  piece  which,  while  professing  to  be  farcical, 
contains  no  humorous  situation,  and  affords  little  or  no  scope  in  any 
direction  for  the  talents  of  such  excellent  actresses  as  Miss  Kate  Rorke 
and  Miss  Kate  Phillips. 


FEB.  i,  1886.] 


OUR  OMNIBUS-BOX. 


New  plays  produced  in   London,  the  provinces,  and   Paris  from 
December  23,  1885,  to  January  23,  1886  :— 

LONDON: 

December  23.     "  The  Harbour  Lights,"  a  new  and  original  drama,   in   live 

acts,  by  Geo.  R.  Sims  and  Henry  Pettitt.     Adelphi  Theatre. 
,,          26.     "Little   Jack   Sheppard,    a  new    "burlesque-operatic-melo- 

drama," by  H.  P.  Stephens  and  W.  Yardley.     Gaiety  Theahv. 
January        2.     "  Najezda,"  a  play,  in  a  prologue  and  three  acts,  by  Maurice 

Barrymore.     Haymarket  Theatre. 
,,  4.     "Room  70,"  anew  farce,  by  Percy  Fitzgerald.     Haymarket 

Theatre. 
,,  9.     "  Under    Cover,"    comedietta,   by   Cunningham    Bridgman, 

adapted  from  "  Le  Bibelot"  of  Ernest  d'Hervilly.      Gaiety 

Theatre. 
,,          12.     "  Plebeians,"  a  new  and  original  comedy,  in  three  acts,  by 

Joseph  Derrick.     Vaudeville  Theatre. 
,,         23.     (Matinee  —  single  performance.)  "Speculation,"  anew  comedy, 

in  three  acts,  by  W.  Sapte,  jun.     Prince's  Theatre. 
,,          23.     "  The  Man  with  Three  Wives  !  "  a  farce,  in  three  acts,  by  C. 

M.  Rae,   adapted  from   "  Trois  Femmes  pour  an   Mari  "   of 

Grenet-Dancourt.     Criterion  Theatre. 

PROVINCES  : 

January        7.     "  Late  Love,"  a  comedy-drama,  in  a  prologue  and  four  acts, 
by  Leonard  S.  Outram,  adapted  from   "  L'Aventuriere  "    of 
Emile  Augier.     Theatre  Royal,  Reading. 
"  Bela,"   a  new  romantic   drama,  in  four  acts,   by   Gerald 
Godfrey,  adapted  from  the  French.     Theatre  Royal,  Belfast. 
"  No    Evidence,"    a  sensational    drama,    by    George    Lusl 
Gordon.     Theatre  Royal,  Belfast. 


8. 


15. 


PARIS. 


December  22. 


23. 


23. 


24. 


25. 


28. 


0. 


31. 


an  a 


Comedie  Fran^aise,  "La  Phedre  de  Pradon," 
verse,  by  Jules  Truffier. 

Renaissance,  reproduction  of  "  La  Parisienne,"  in  three  acts, 
by  Henri  Becque.  Reproduction  of  "  La  Navette,"  in  one  act, 
by  Henri  Becque. 

Opera  Comique,  reproduction  of  "  Romeo  et  Juliette,"  in  five 
acts  ;  libretto  by  Jules  Barbier,  music  by  Gounod. 
Chatelet,  "  La  Guerre,"  military  drama  in  five  acts,  by  MM. 
Erckmann-Chatrian. 

Opera  Comique,  reproduction  of  "  Les  Contes  d'Hoffmann,' 
an  opera  in  four  acts,  libretto  by  Jules  Barbier  and  M.  Carre, 
music  by  Jacques  Offenbach. 

Nouveautes,  "  Les  Nouveautes  de  Paris,"  a  revue,  in  three 
acts  and  eight  tableaux,  by  MM.  Ernest  Blum,  Albert  Wolff, 
and  Raoul  Toche. 

Porte-St.  -Martin,  reproduction  of  "  Marion  Delorme,"  five  act 
drama  in  verse,  by  Victor  Hugo. 

Palais  Royal,  reproduction  of  "Le  Train  de  plaisir,"  a 
vaudeville  in  four  acts,  by  MM.  Alfred  Hennequin,  Arnold 
,Mortier,  and  Albert  de  Saint-  Albin. 


n6  THE     THEATRE.  [FEB.  j,  1886. 

December  31.     Menus-Plaisirs,  "JPele-Mele  Gazette,"  a  revue,  in  four  acts 

and  seven  tableaux,  by  MM.  Blondeau,  Monreal,  and  Grisier. 
January       6.     Palais  Royal,  "La  fille  u  Georgette,"  parody  in  one  act,  by 

MM.  Valabregne,  Billant,  and  d'Orgeval,  who  write  under 

the  pseudonym  of  M.  Valbidor. 
,,  8.     Renaissance,  "  Une  Mission  Delicate,"  three  act  comedy,  by 

Alexandre  Bisson. 
,,          15.     Comedie  Fran$aise,  "  Moliere  en  Prison,"  an  a  profios  vt\  one 

act,  by  Ernest  d'Hervilly. 
,,          1 6.     Ambigu,  "  La  Banque  de  1'Univers,"  drama  in  five  acts,  by 

M.  Grenet  Dancourt. 

,          19.     Opera  Comique,  reproduction  of  "  Zampa,"  opera  by  Herold. 
,,         23.     Come'die   Fran^aise,   "  Un  Parisien,"  three  act  comedy   by 

Edmond  Gondinet. 


THE  THEATRE. 


"  Box  and   Cox r    in  Spanish. 

BY  WALTER  GOODMAN. 

SENOR  BALTAZAR  TORRECILLAS,  impresario  and  first 
low  comedian  of  the  Teatro  de  la  Reina  of  Santiago  de 
Cuba,  was  badly  in  want  of  an  entirely  new  sainete,  or  farce,  for 
his  annual  benefit  which  was  to  take  place  during  the  season. 
The  actor's  own  repertoire  was  exhausted  and  he  could  think  of 
nothing  in  the  way  of  comic  interludes  that  had  not  been  already 
done  to  the  death.  So  he  decided  that  a  little  piece  should  be 
written  expressly  for  the  occasion,  and  consulted  Don  Emilio 
Aguirreozabal  on  the  subject. 

Don  Emilio  was  a  scratch  poet  and  scene-painter,  employed  at 
the  theatre  for  such  literary  compositions  and  decorations  as 
might  be  required,  from  a  topical  song  to  a  taking  advertisement, 
and  from  a  stage  set  to  a  coloured  poster.  I  was  intimately 
acquainted  with  this  versatile  gentleman,  and  had  often  assisted 
in  his  scenic  productions,  and  it  was  through  him  that  I 
became  aware  of  the  manager's  requirements  and  of  the  fact  that 
something  in  the  style  of  Un  cuarto  con  dos  camas  was  wanted. 
Now,  I  had  never  seen  that  favourite  Spanish  farce,  nor  till  the 
don  mentioned  the  title  had  I  ever  heard  of  it ;  but  as  I  knew 
that  the  phrase,  in  its  literal  form,  stood  for  a  room  with  two  beds 
in  it,  and  that  this  in  terser  English  was  double-bedded  room,  I 
naturally  bethought  me  of  a  comic  piece  with  precisely  that  title 
which  a  compatriot  of  mine,  not  altogether  unknown  to  fame  as 
John  Maddison  Morton,  had  once  written. 

This  in  turn  led  me  to  revert  to  another  farce,  by  the  same 
prolific  pen,  which  in  my  native  land  was  as  popular  as  the  play  of 
"Hamlet,"  and  had  been  performed  quite  as  often  as  the  Shake- 
spearean favourite.  -  Had  the  don  ever  heard  of  a  sainete,  a 

NEW  SERIES— VOL.  VII.  K 


n8  THE     THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 

comedy,  a  melo-drama,  or  a  tragedy,  in  which  two  men  uncon- 
sciously occupy  the  same  apartment — the  one  by  day  the  other 
by  night — use  the  same  coals,  the  same  candle,  the  same  sugar, 
the  same  gridiron,  and  the  same  box  of  lucifer  matches ;  fall  in 
love,  without  knowing  it,  with  the  same  lady,  who  never  appears 
on  the  scene  ;  quarrel  about  her,  offer  to  fight  for  her,  toss  up  for 
her,  receive  unpaid  letters  concerning  her  ;  get  out  of  the  difficulty 
of  marrying  her  by  the  very  same  means,  and  end  by  making 
the  astonishing  discovery  that  they  are  one  another's  long-lost 
brother  ? 

No,  the  don  could  not  recall  to  mind  any  such  piece,  and  being 
much  struck  by  my  account  of  it,  at  once  submitted  the  plan  to  his 
chief,  who  so  far  approved  of  the  motive  as  to  order  the  play  to 
be  translated -without  delay  and  adapted  to  the  Spanish  stage. 
For  this,  it  was  absolutely  necessary  that  the  book  of  the  words 
should  be  consulted.  But  the  book  of  the  words,  together  with 
permission  to  perform  the  play,  was  only  to  be  obtained  of  Mr. 
Samuel  French,  of  the  Strand,  London,  or  at  his  corresponding 
house  in  New  York,  and  as  a  communication  writh  the  nearest  of 
those  localities  would  necessitate  a  longer  period  of  waiting  than 
the  management  could  afford,  it  was  decided  to  do  without  it. 

Now,  I  had  frequently  witnessed  "  Box  and  Cox  "  on  the  stage, 
dating  from  the  time  when  Mr.  John  Baldwin  Buckstone  imper- 
sonated the  journeyman  printer,  and  Mr.  Compton  the  journey- 
man hatter ;  while  in  the  stage-struck  days  of  my  youth  I  had  often 
undertaken  one  of  the  title  roles  and  performed  it  before  crowded 
drawing-rooms.  It  was,  therefore,  not  impossible  that  I  might 
repeat  every  line  of  the  dialogue  without  reference  to  the  book. 
So  with  a  view  to  put  memory  to  the  test,  I  ran  over  the  opening 
scene  in  which  Cox  is  discovered  with  a  looking-glass  in  his  hand 
and  his  hair  cut  very  short ;  and  finding  no  difficulty  in  recalling 
every  word  of  that  famous  speech,  and  of  the  conversation  with 
Mrs.  Bouncer  which  follows,  I  endeavoured  to  convert  the  lines 
into  corresponding  Castilian  for  the  comprehension  of  my  friends, 
and  this  being  approved  of  by  the  manager,  I  was  entrusted  with 
the  duty  of  adaptation. 

This  was  by  no  means  easy  of  accomplishment — first,  because 

the  management  had  decided  to  localise  the  scene,  the  incidents, 

.  and  the  characters;  and  second,  because  it  was  difficult  to  find  an 

equivalent  in  Spanish  for  some  of  the  pet  "phrases  introduced  in 


MARCH  i,  1886.         "BOX  AND   COX"  IN  SPANISH.  Iig 

the  original  version.  The  "  gentle  hatter  " — not  to  mention  the 
pugilistic  printer — has  rather  a  round-about  and  flowery  way  of 
expressing  himself,  and  his  sentiments  could  not  always  be 
adequately  interpreted  without  spoiling  the  humour  of  the  language 
in  which  those  sentiments  are  conveyed.  Thus,  Voto  a  tal !  estoy 
medio  resuelto,  d  que  no  se  me  vuelva  jamas  a  cortar  el  pelo,  though 
sufficiently  explanatory  of  "  I've  half  a  mind  to  register  an  oath 
that  I'll  never  have  my  hair  cut  again !  "  sounded  too  matter-of- 
fact  and  not  elegant  enough. 

Then  it  seemed  somehow  to  go  against  the  grain,  so  to  speak,  to 
tamper  with  lines  which  had  grown  as  familiar  in  the  English  ear 
as  "  My  name  is  Norval,"  or  "  To  be  or  not  to  be,"  and  yet  for 
local  and  linguistic  purposes  this  was  absolutely  necessary,  as  in 
the  case  of  "  cropped  for  the  militia,"  for  which  "  shaved  like  a 
friar  "  was  substituted,  and  "  open  locks  whoever  knocks,"  which, 
being  a  quotation  from  a  tragedy  unknown  to  Spanish  audiences, 
had  similarly  to  be  sacrificed  in  favour  of  the  everyday  expression, 
"  open  and  enter."  Accordingly,  Abra y  entra  was  Mrs.  Bouncer's 
cue  to  enter  and  say : 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Cox.  I  hope  you  slept  quite  comfortably, 
Mr.  Cox ; "  to  which  Mr.  Cox  replies,  "  I  can't  say  I  did,  Mrs. 
Bouncer,"  etc. 

These  and  similar  phrases  were,  of  course,  easily  translated ; 
their  equivalents  being  as  readily  found  as  "  Have  you  the  hat  ? 
Yes,  I  have  the  hat,"  of  an  Ollendorff  vocabulary ;  but  "  protu- 
berant bolster  "  was  a  rock  ahead  to  be  avoided,  as  bolsters  are 
unknown  luxuries  in  tropical  climates.  However,  a  good-sized 
pillow  called  a  "  Almohada  "  did  well  enough  for  the  purpose,  and 
this  was  duly  described  by  the  creolised  Cox  as  having  a  handful 
and  a-half  of  feathers  at  each  end  and  nothing  whatever  in  the 
middle. 

The  question  of  tobacco  smoke  required  careful  consideration  ; 
first,  because  there  are  no  chimneys  or  fire-places  in  the  domestic 
dwellings  of  Santiago ;  and  second,  because  there  would  be  no- 
thing uncommon  in  that  country  for  a  lady  of  Mrs.  Bouncer's  years 
and  habits  to  be  "guilty  of  cheroots  and  cubas,"  or  even 
partial  to  a  pipe.  As  for  the  "  gentleman  in  the  attics  who  sits 
for  hours  with  his  feet  on  the  mantle-piece,"  this  also  required 
some  modification,  on  account  of  the  constructive  arrangements  of 
Cuban  habitations,  which,  as  a  general  rule,  possess  but  one  story 

K  2 


I20 


THE     THEATRE.  [MARCH  i, 


and  no  mantle-pieces  worth  mentioning.  The  difficulty  of  a  fire- 
place, which  is  so  important  for  the  cooking  scene,  was  got  over 
by  the  substitution  of  a  charcoal  stove  of  brick,  though  this  is 
usually  placed  for  culinary  purposes  in  the  patio,  or  courtyard. 
Cox's  objection  to  the  effluvia  of  Box's  tobacco  was  sufficiently 
accounted  for  by  making  the  printer  smoke  cigars  of  a  spurious 
brand  ;  otherwise,  the  hatter's  dislike  to  smoking,  in  a  country 
where  everybody  indulges  in  the  practice,  would  be  inconsistent. 

Mrs.  Bouncer's  reflections  concerning  her  lodgers  and  their 
eccentric  ways  were  reproduced  without  much  trouble,  as  was 
also  the  dialogue  between  her  and  Box  which  follows,  unless  ex- 
ception be  taken  to  the  printer's  inquiry  as  to  who  is  the  indi- 
vidual whom  he  invariably  encounters  going  down  stairs  when  he 
is  coming  up,  and  coming  up  stairs  when  he  is  going  down,  which, 
in  the  absence  of  a  staircase,  was  altered  to  "going  out  when  I 
am  coming  in." 

Box's  observations  after  he  has  got  rid  of  "  that  venerable 
female  "  were  faithfully  transcribed,  even  to  his  consideration  as 
to  whether  he  shall  take  his  nap  before  he  swallows  his  breakfast, 
or  take  his  breakfast  before  he  swallows  his  nap,  the  close  equiva- 
lent of  which  was,  "  Vamos  a  ver.  Tomaremos  la  siesta  antes  de  tragar 
el  almuerzo  ?  6  mas  bien,  tomaremos  el  almuerzo  antes  de  tragar  la- 
siesta  ?  Es  decir,  que  tr  agave  primero  la  siesta  y  .  .  .  .  no,  no  es  esto 
....  pero  que  importa  ?  "  The  first  of  May^  chimney-sweeper's 
day,  which  Box  mentions  as  the  precise  date  when  his  candle  was 
purchased,  was,  for  an  obvious  reason,  changed  to  "  el  dia  primero  de 
Pascuas,"  or  the  first  day  of  Lent,  but  the  remainder  of  his  speech 
went  smoothly  to  the  end,  where  he  speculates  upon  the  possibility 
of  his  bacon  turning  itself  while  he  is  taking  his  siesta,  for  which 
"  Quizd  darz  vueltas  por  si  mismo  "  did  duty. 

In  Cox's  companion  soliloquy,  which  immediately  follows  upon 
the  closing  of  Box's  bed-curtains,  some  slight  deviations  from  the 
text  were  made,  in  referring  to  "  Gravesend  and  back  —  fare  one 
shilling,"  to  "  Greenwich  for  fourpence,"  to  the  "Twopenny  omni- 
buses and  the  penny  steamboats,"  for  all  of  which  native  localities 
and  conveyances  were  thought  of.  It  was  necessary  also  to 
localise  Cox's  mutton  chop  by  transforming  it  into  an  article  of 
food  more  familiar  than  that  essentially  English  commodity  ;  and 
Bacalao,  or  dried  stock  fish  naturally  suggested  itself.  The  actor 
of  the  part,  however,  might  introduce  any  other  native  comestible 


MA*CHI,  1886.]    "BOX  AND  COX"  IN  SPANISH.  121 

which  he  might  consider  more  appropriate ;  such,  for  example,  as 
the  sausage  known  as  Longaniza  or  that  called  Chorizo.  All  the 
business  of  Cox's  discovery  that  the  fire  is  lighted  and  that  the 
gridiron  is  on  the  fire — a  proceeding  which  he  attributes  to  the 
"  quiet  coolness  of  Mrs.  Bouncer  " — was  closely  followed,  as  was 
also  Box's  business  when  he  awakes  and  finds  that  his  tocino 
has  been  removed  for  the  accommodation  of  Mrs.  Bouncer's 
foacalao. 

When  the  pair  eventually  meet  with  "  Who  are  you,  sir  ?  " 
•"If  you  come  to  that,  sir, who  are  you ?  "  " Hola!  quien  es  usted, 
•caballero ? "  and  "  Y  usted,  compadre,  quien  es?"  was  preferred  ;  and 
when  Cox  shouts,  "Thieves!"  and  Box  "Murder!"  while 
questioning  one  another's  right  to  the  possession  of  the  apartment, 
•"Asesino ! "  and  "Fuego ! "  were  substituted.  Mrs.  Bouncer's  inquiry, 
'"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  when  she  is  summoned,  was  similarly 
^converted  into  "  For  Dios  !  que  hay,  senores  ?  "  as  the  original  phrase 
-appeared  too  tame  when  correctly  rendered.  A  more  important 
change  was  necessary  for  the  smoking  scene,  in  which  Cox  objects 
to  Box's  tobacco  and  retaliates  by  opening  the  window,  as  windows 
in  Cuban  dwellings,  being  devoid  of  glass,  are  perpetually  open. 
A  liberty  was,  therefore,  here  taken  by  making  the  hatter  produce 
a  trombone,  which  he  blows  in  the  direction  of  the  printer's  tobacco 
fumes  and  declines  to  put  down  till  his  companion  puts  down  his 
bad  cigar.  For.  Box's  remark,  "  Hark  ye,  sir,  can  you 
fight  ?  "  which  occurs  during  the  dispute  about  the  lawful  owner- 
ship of  the  bed,  the  expression  "tirar  a  trompadas  "  was  employed  in 
preference  to  "  Pelear,"  as  the  first  of  these  terms  is  applied  ex- 
clusively to  fisticuffs  and  the  last  to  fighting  generally.  And  when 
'Cox  says  emphatically,  "  No,  sir !  "  in  response  to  the  challenge, 
Box's  "  Then  come  on !  "  was  strengthened  by  "  Puts  entonces 
ponga  usted  enguar dia,  y  ....  adelante  /"  for  although  "  A  delante  " 
is  a  near  approach  to  "  Come  on,"  it  has  not  quite  the  same 
significance  as  the  Anglo-Saxon  term. 

A  few  alterations  were  required  for  the  melo-dramatic  story  of 
Penelope  Ann,  in  which  Box  relates  how  he  enlisted  in  the  Blues 
or  the  Life  Guards,  and  mentions  Ramsgate  and  Margate  while 
referring  to  the  proprietor  of  bathing  machines.  Some  trifling 
variations  were  likewise  necessary  for  the  account  of  the  fair  one's 
behaviour,  when,  with  a  view  to  withdraw  from  his  engagement, 
Box  tells  her  that  he  isn't  worthy  of  her;  upon  which,  instead  of 


122  THE    THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 

being  flattered  by  the  compliment,  his  affiancee  flies  upon  him 
like  a  tiger  of  the  female  gender,  and  ends  by  levelling  at  her 
lover  something  that  turns  out  to  be  a  slop  basin,  which  is  shivered 
into  a  thousand  fragments  against  the  mantle-piece.  These  were, 
however,  mere  matters  of  detail,  and  .in  no  way  interfered  with 
the  terrible  anti-climax  in  which  the  unfortunate  hero  of  the 
romance  deposits  a  suit  of  clothes  on  the  very  verge  of  the  fright- 
ful precipice  ;  takes  one  look  into  the  yawning  gulf  beneath,  and — 
walks  off  in  the  opposite  direction. 

The  most  was  made  of  the  proposed  duel,  when  "  pistols  for 
two  "  are  demanded  of  Mrs.  Bouncer,  who,  after  mentioning  that 
the  fire-arms  are  not  loaded,  is  requested  to  instantly  produce  the 
murderous  weapons.  Such  a  topic  would  naturally  be  of  special 
interest  to  the  combative  sons  of  old  Castille,  and  accordingly  it 
was  somewhat  enlarged  upon  in  the  Spanish  version.  For  the 
same  reason,  the  gambling  propensities  of  Box  and  Cox  were  fully 
developed  in  the  scene  where  those  heroes  throw  dice  and  toss  up 
for  Penelope  Ann.  No  portion  of  the  dialogue  relating  to  this 
important  subject  was  omitted,  even  to  the  famous  "  Heads  I  win, 
tails  you  lose  "  passage.  Cam  y  Corona,  or  Face  and  Crown,  is 
the  Gastilian  counterpart  of  heads  and  tails  ;  so  when  the  Spanish 
Box  makes  the  discovery  that  the  "  lucky  sixpence  "—here  called 
a  real  —  of  the  Spanish  Cox  has  "  got  no  tail,"  and  the 
latter  returns  the  compliment  by  declaring  that  the  printer's 
"  tossing  shilling,"  or  peseta,  possesses  two  heads,  all  this  is 
adequately  expressed  by- 
Box.  "  Hola  !  El  real  de  usted  no  tiene  corona.'" 
Cox.  "  Y  encuentro  que  la  pes  eta  de  usted  amigo,  lleva  dos  cams." 
Far  from  plain  sailing  was  the  translation  of  the  letter  in  which 
is  recorded  the  melancholy  accident  to  Penelope  Ann,  who  went 
out  for  a  short  excursion  in  a  sailing  boat,  when  a  sudden  squall 
took  place,  which,  it  was  supposed,  upset  her,  as  she  was  found  two 
days  afterwards  keel  upwards ;  and  considerable  doubt  was  enter- 
tained as  to  whether  the  point  of  Box's  parenthetic  exclamation,. 
"  Poor  woman  !  "  would  not  be  wholly  lost ;  inasmuch  as  boat  in 
Spanish  is  masculine.  However,  by  giving  more  prominence  to 
the  word  keel  (which  as  Quilla  becomes  feminine)  the  humour  of  the 
original  was  sufficiently  preserved.  The  second  communication, 
announcing  the  rescue  from  a  watery  grave  of  Penelope  Ann,  was 
less  embarrassing,  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  the  third  docu- 


MARCH  i,  i886.]    "BOX  AND  COX"  IN  SPANISH.  123 

ment  conveying  the  welcome  intelligence  of  the  widow's  immediate 
union  with  Mr.  Knox. 

From  this  point  the  lines  were  comparatively  easy  to  transcribe, 
not  excepting  Box's  famous  inquiry  whether  Cox  possesses  such 
a  thing  as  a  strawberry  mark  on  his  left  arm,  to  which  the  latter 
replies  "  No!  "  whereupon  Box  exclaims,  "  Then,  'tis  he  !  "  and 
they  rush  into  each  others  arms.  But,  as  the  last  line  required 
strengthening  in  the  Spanish  version,  I  took  the  liberty  of  adding 
the  stage  gag,  "  Come  to  my  arms,  my  long  lost  brother !  "  which 
it  was  usual  to  introduce,  and  accordingly  this  phrase  was  duly 
converted  into  "Que  venga  a  estos  brazos  el  hermano  por  tanto  tiempo 
perdido ! "  The  tag  of  the  piece,  in  which  the  recently  found 
brothers  decide,  after  what  has  happened,  to  stop  where  they  are, 
as  the  house  is  large  enough  to  hold  them  both  and  the  mistress 
of  it  is  apparently  anxious  to  please,  was  similarly  disposed  of. 

All  that  now  remained  was  to  find  suitable  titles  for  the 
characters.  This  was  by  no  means  the  lightest  part  of  the  under- 
taking, for,  if  the  spirit  of  the  original  wras  to  be  preserved,  it  was 
highly  necessary  that  the  names  should  assimilate,  especially  in 
the  case  of  Box,  .Cox,  and  Knox.  With  this  in  view.  I  recalled 
to  mind  a  vast  number  of  euphonious  cognomens  and  words 
having  an  alliterative  sound,  such  as  Tripoli  and  Trapoli,  Crispin 
and  Crispiniano,  Boca  and  Roca,  Hueso  and  Queso ;  but  one  and 
all  were  rejected,  chiefly  because  no  third  name  was  discovered 
which  corresponded  in  point  of  brevity  and  rhythm  with  the  other 
two.  At  length,  upon  the  principle  of  finding  at  home  that  which 
has  been  vainly  sought  for  abroad,  it  occurred  to  me  to  turn  Box 
into  its  literal  equivalent  of  Caja,  and  having  done  so,  Baja  was 
soon  thought  of  and  adopted  ;  and  being  a  word  signifying  low, 
as  applied  to  a  fall  in  market  prices,  it  might  be  considered  applic- 
able to  Cox's  circumstances.  After  this  it  was  not  very  difficult  to 
discover  a  suitable  title  for  Knox,  and  the  most  appropriate  was 
Faja,  a  term  which  stands  for  sash,  and  is  also  applied  to  similar 
articles  susceptible  of  tying  or  binding.  For  Mrs.  Bouncer,  Dona 
Robustiana  was  fairly  ben  trovato  ;  Anna  Barbara  did  well  enough 
for  Penelope  Ann,  while  the  best  that  could  be  done  for  Mr. 
William  Wiggins  was  Vicente  Valiente. 

The  titles  with  which  the  characters  had  been  thus  re-christened 
would,  of  course,  be  a  matter  for  the  decision  of  the  manage- 
ment. Meanwhile  there  was  one  important  point  which  necessi- 


I24  THE   THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 

tated  immediate  consideration,  as  it  might  possibly  seriously 
affect  the  motive  of  the  piece.  This  had  reference  to  the  respec- 
tive callings  of  Caja  y  Baja,  which  till  now  was  a  subject  which 
had  been  inadvertently  overlooked.  There  was  nothing  to  be  said 
against  the  favourite  occupation  of  Mr.  James  Cox,  inasmuch  as 
journeyman  hatters,  hailing  from  Spain,  were  common  enough  in 
her  colonies ;  and  in  the  opening  scene,  where  Cox  tries  on 
different  hats  which  will  not  fit  him,  an  opportunity  was  afforded 
for  introducing  the  native  head-covering  known  [as  the  Panama, 
of  which  there  is  an  endless  variety.  But  it  is  otherwise  in  the 
case  of  a  journeyman  printer.  White  people  are  rarely  employed 
in  a  subordinate  capacity  at  a  printing-office,  the  duties  being 
usually  fulfilled  by  members  of  the  coloured  community.  In  a 
slave  country,  the  printer's  devil  is  quite  as  black  as  he  is  painted 
by  report  and  printing-ink — to  say  nothing  of  nature ;  and 
although  a  Creole  Box  need  not  necessarily  be^a  nigger,  he  could 
hardly  be  represented  as  a  white  man. 

More  in  keeping  with  native  notions  would  be  a  journeyman 
printer  who  was  either  a  mulatto,  a  quadroon,  or  a  half-caste. 
This,  again,  had  its  drawbacks,  as  no  Mrs.  Bouncer  could 
consistently  say  to  a  coffee-coloured  Box,  "  I  declare  you  look 
quite  pale  in  the  face  !  "  and  it  would  be  equally  at  variance 
with  the  situation  for  a  person  in  the  guise  of  a  Moore  and  Burgess 
minstrel  to  reply,  "  What  colour  would  you  have  a  man  be,  who 
has  been  setting  up  long  leaders  all  night  [for  a  daily  paper  ?" 
But,  apart  from  this  consideration,  it  was  more  than  doubtful 
whether  a  Box  of  any  colour,  except  white,  would  be  tolerated 
upon  the  stage  in  a  land  where  "real  "  negroes  and  native  preju- 
dices are  as  plentiful  as  blackberries.  Then  there  was  the  Censor 
of  Plays  and  Penelope  Ann.  The  Censor  of  Plays  was  an  awful 
personage,  invested  with  all  sorts  of  administrative  authority,  and 
he  would  certainly  have  something  to  say  on  the  subject.  As  for 
Penelope  Ann,  unless  that  immaculate  lady  were  a  bird  of  the 
same  swarthy  plumage,  she  could  scarcely  attach  herself  to  a 
coloured  man,  either  by  hearsay  or  behind  the  scenes,  without 
shocking  the  sensibilities  of  her  unsullied  sisters  in  the  stalls. 

Under  these  circumstances,  the  copper-coloured  printer  was  aban- 
doned, while,  in  conformity  with  native  tastes  and  native  trade,  he 
was  ultimately  turned  into  a  Creole  tobacconist.  This  was  highly 
approved  of  by  the  audience  when  the  piece,  after  having  been 


MARCH  i,  1886.]  AFTER    THE    BALL.  125 

carefully  revised  and  rehearsed,  was  presented  for  the  first  time 
to  the  public.  And,  as  the  play  was  pronounced  a  success,  the 
reader  of  these  pages  will  naturally  and  rightly  conclude  that 
manager,  actors,  and  author  echoed  the  sentiments  expressed  by 
the  long-lost  brothers  when  they  say  in  the  tag  of  the  farce,  "  And 
Box — And  Cox — Are  satisfied." 


After    the    Ball. 


SHE  counts  her  conquests  all  as  naught 
Before  this  crowning  one  ; 
The  love  that  seemed  to  come  unsought, 

Like  splendours  of  the  sun. 
And  every  word  he  spoke  to-night 

Is  graven  on  her  brain 
In  letters  of  auroral  light, 
For  ever  to  remain. 

She  lays  her  lips  upon  the  hands 

His  fervent  lips  have  kissed  ; 
And  o'er  her  clear  eyes  as  she  stands 

There  comes  a  happy  mist. 
What  was  her  charm  in  form  or  face 

O'er  others  at  the  ball 
That  he  should  do  her  such  a  grace 

As  choose  her  'mid  them  all  ? 

She  casts  her  shining  silks  aside, 

And  robes  her  for  her  rest  ; 
Her  only  dream  till  morning-tide, 

"  He  loves  me — loves  me  best." 
O  virgin  faith  !     O  face  so  sweet ! 

O  heart  that  pulses  true  ! 
Will  any  man's  heart  ever  beat 

As  loyally  for  you  ? 


126  THE   THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 

He  leaves  the  ball,  but  not  for  rest, 

And  not  for  faithful  dream  ; 
Life  needs,  it  seems,  another  zest 

Where  Lais  reigns  supreme. 
Fill  high  the  beaker  with  champagne, 

And  crown  the  board  with  flow'rs ; 
A  husband  may  not  know  again 

Such  gay  Bohemian  hours. 

Not  his  the  love  that  lives  for  aye, 

Not  his  the  loyal  troth  ; 
His  passion  lasts  a  summer  day, 

He  swears  a  traitor's  oath. 
So  take  this  moral  'mid  the  strife 

Of  Hymeneal  plans, 
That  love  is  all  a  woman's  life, 

And  only  half  a  man's. 

H.   SAVILE  CLARKE. 


MARCH  i,  1886.]          PARIS    AT     THE    PLAY.  127 


Paris    At    The    Play. 

BY    T.    JOHNSON. 

MUCH  as  has  been  written  about  Shakespeare  and  Victor 
Hugo,  there  always  remains  something  still  to  say  when 
great  men  like  these  are  being  discussed.  If  in  a  century  from  now 
"  Marion  Delorme  "  should  be  reproduced,  the  critics  of  the  time 
would  have  opinions  to  submit  to  their  readers,  just  as  the  critics 
of  to-day  write  long  articles  on  "  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  "  Macbeth," 
or  "  Hamlet."  Although  written  three  months  before  "  Hernani," 
,?  Marion  Delorme  "  only  saw  the  light  eighteen  months  later  ; 
but  yet  it  may  be  considered  as  the  dramatic  debut  of  Victor  Hugo, 
and  for  that  reason  interest  attaches  to  it,  as  from  that  time  dates 
the  inaugaration  of  the  school  called  the  Ecole  Romantique,  created 
by  the  French  poet.  "  Hernani "  wras  represented  at  the 
Comedie  Francaise,  whereas  "  Marion  Delorme "  was  produced 
at  the  Porte  St.  Martin  on  August  nth,  1831.  The  old  Porte 
St.  Martin,  which  was  built  in  eighty-six  days,  was  opened  on 
October  27th,  1781,  with  a  free  performance  that  Marie 
Antoinette  attended.  Burned  during  the  Commune,  when  rebuilt 
it  was  destined  for  opera,  the  Opera  House  having  also  been 
destroyed  by  fire,  and  it  was  not  till  1814,  under  the  manage- 
ment of  M.  Saint  Remain,  that  it  became  the  home  of  drama,  a 
style  of  performance  to  which  it  has  ever  since  adhered.  By 
the  express  desire  of  King  Charles  X.  the  Ministers  Martignac 
and  Polegnac  from  1829  to  1830  prohibited  the  play,  and  it  was 
after  the  Revolution  of  July,  when  theatres  once  more  regained 
their  liberty,  that  the  idea  was  formed  of  mounting  "  Marion 
Delorme,"  which  till  then  had  remained  on  the  censor's  desk. 
Victor  Hugo  himself  says,  in  the  preface  to  the  piece,  that,  in 
spite  of  the  entreaties  of  friends,  he  was  loth  to  have  the  piece 
mounted  then,  for  he  did  not  desire  a  success  that  was  due  to 


128  THE    THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 

political  reaction,  considering  such  successes  to  be  not  only  of 
little  value,  but  not  lasting ;  and  so  he  refused  to  authorise  the 
representation  of  "  Marion  Delorme."  More  than  a  year  after 
the  Revolution  of  1830,  as  I  have  already  said,  Victor  Hugo 
sought  the  opinion  of  the  public,  the  principal  interpreters  then 
being  Madame  Marie  Dorval,  who  was  in  the  height  of  her 
artistic  glory,  and  M.  Bocage,  whose  nephew,  I  may  in  parenthesis 
remark,  is  one  of  the  authors  of  "La  Doctoresse,"  the  Gymnase 
play.  The  story  of  "  Marion  Delorme  "  is  too  well  known  to  call 
for  more  than  the  briefest  analysis.  Didier,  who  is  a  young  man 
of  twenty,  falls  in  love  with  Marion  in  that  headlong,  reckless 
manner  peculiar  to  youth,  and  without  knowing  that  the  object  of 
his  mad  adoration  is  only  the  commonest  of  courtesans.  The 
Marquis  de  Saverny,  one  of  Marion's  many  lovers,  after  having 
had  his  life  saved  against  assassins  by  Didier,  picks  a  quarrel  with 
his  preserver,  and  the  duel  over,  Didier  is  arrested,  and  the  two 
combatants  are  condemned  to  death,  for  the  edicts  of  the  King,  or 
rather  those  of  Cardnal  Richelieu,  are  positive  enough,  and  the 
minister  of  Louis  XIII.  has  resolved  to  put  a  stop  to  duelling. 
Marion,  however,  wishes  to  save  Didier,  and  to  accomplish  this 
she  shrinks  from  no  sacrifice.  To  preserve  his  life  she  yields  to 
the  embraces  of  M.  de  Laffernas  ;  but  Didier,  who  now  knows  the 
shameful  past  of  the  woman  he  has  worshipped,  guesses  at  the 
horrid  bargain  made  by  her,  and  declines  to  be  saved  on  such 
terms.  He  curses  Marion  and  heaps  reproaches  on  her  about  her 
degraded  existence  ;  but  when  on  the  point  of  death  his  heart  is 
touched,  he  forgives  her,  and  mounts  the  scaffold  with  courage. 
I  have  only,  as  will  be  seen,  sketched  the  leading  features  of  the 
drama.  Victor  Hugo  was  censured  for  seeking  to  rehabilitate 
the  courtesan,  but  such  I  am  sure  was  never  the  great  poet's 
intention.  Besides,  Marion  is  not  rehabilitated — far  from  it ; 
indeed,  her  last  sacrifice  proves  useless,  but,  fallen  though  she  is, 
she  inspires  a  certain  pity.  From  the  realistic  point  of  view,  that 
is  to  say,  that  of  the  modern  drama,  other  and  more  serious 
criticisms  could  be  applied  to  "  Marion  Delorme."  For  instance, 
it  is  difficult  to  understand  the  anger  of  Didier  against  Saverny 
for  a  mere  glance  at  his  mistress ;  still  more  incomprehensible  is 
it  that  he  should  be  in  ignorance  of  the  past  of  a  notorious 
woman  when  all  the  town  knew,  whose  name  was  a  byword,  and 
whose  intrigues  were  a  secret  to  no  one.  Sardou's  "  Theodora," 


MARCH  i,  ,886]        PARIS    AT    THE   PLAY.  i2g 

in  this  respect,  is  a  little  like  "  Marion  Delorme,"  for  the  real 
character  of  the  Empress  Theodora  is  not  known  to  her  lover, 
who  also,  it  may  be  remembered,  spurns  her  as  Didier  does  before 
dying.  In  the  first  acts  it  must  be  admitted  Madame  Sarah 
Bernhardt  was  not  equal  to  her  task.  In  spite  of  her  immense 
talent,  which  every  now  and  again  astonishes  her  beholders,  the 
great  tragedienne  gives  way  to  a  manner,  or  rather  an  affectation 
of  speech,  which  is  quite  out  of  place  in  the  part.  In  turn  she 
whispers,  whines,  and  gabbles,  instead  of  speaking  distinctly,  and 
the  voix  d'or,  that  has  been  considered  one  of  her  greatest  charms, 
is  certainly  not  what  it  was.  "  Marion  Delorme  "  was  played  in 
1872  at  the  Comedie  Frangaise,  at  which  house  the  -mounting 
was  not  equal  to  that  provided  now  by  M.  Duquesnel,  but  the 
interpretation  was  by  far  superior.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Victor 
Hugo's  verses  are  not  as  easy  to  deliver  as  is  the  prose  of 
Victorien  Sardou.  Marais,  for  instance,  labours  at  the  lines  with 
a  monotony  that  takes  from  them  not  only  half  their  poetry,  but 
their  point,  at  the  same  time  ;  and  Berton,  with  his  constantly 
quivering  voice,  cannot  be  expected  to  equal  Delaunay.  The 
mise  en  scene,  I  have  already  said,  excels  that  of  the  Theatre 
Frangais,  indeed,  historical  accuracy  could  not  be  carried  further 
than  it  has  been  by  M.  Duquesnel,  who  has  made  a  frame  fully 
worthy  of  the  picture.  The  renowned  critic,  Theophile  Gauthier, 
after  a  reproduction  of  "  Marion  Delorme  "  in  November,  1839, 
wrote  thus  : — 

"  Faire  ?eloge  de  'Marion  Delorme'  est  maintenant  chose 
superflue.  Ce  beau  drame  reunit  la  gravite  passionnee  de  Corneille 
et  la  folle  allure  des  comedies  romanesques  de  Shakespeare.  Quelle 
variete  de  ton  !  quelle  vivacite  charmante  !  '  Marion  Delorme  '  est 
une  des  pieces  de  Victor  Hugo  ou  Fon  aime  le  plus  k  revenir  ;  c'est 
un  roman,  une  comedie,  un  drame,  un  poeme  ou  toutes  les  cordes  de 
la  lyre  vibrent  tour  h,  tour." 

The  characteristic  of  all  great  works  is  that  they  do  not 
lose  their  value.  Time,  even,  does  not  diminish  it,  and  the 
public  applaud  them  always,  because  real,  that  is  to  say, 
human,  sentiments  belong  to  all  epochs.  They  date  from  the 
creation. 

"  UNE  MISSION  DELICATE,"  By  M.  Bisson,  has  been  produced 
at  the  Renaissance.  It  must  be  honestly  accorded  that  operetta  has 
had  its  day.  One  after  the  other  the  theatres,  so  to  speak, 
dedicated  to  this  kind  of  entertainment  have  given  it  up,  either 


130  THE     THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  l886. 

for  vaudeville  or  comedy.  Are  composers  or  the  public  to 
blame  for  this  transformation  ?  The  question  is  difficult  to 
answer ;  but,  personally,  I  own  to  feeling  no  regret  at  the  change. 
There  are  but  two  theatres  in  Paris  devoted  to  this  special 
creation  of  Offenbach's,  namely,  the  Bouffes  Parisiens,  managed 
by  Madame  Ugalde,  and  the  Folies  Dramatiques,  presided  over 
by  Brasseur,  fils.  The  Nouveautes,  the  sceptre  of  which  is  wielded 
by  Brasseur,  pere,  can  hardly  be  added  to  the  list,  seeing  that  it  is 
vaudevilles,  with  songs  and  revues,  rather  than  operettas,  that 
are  produced  on  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens,  pieces  in  which  the 
music,  usually  by  Lecocq  or  Planquette,  is  only  of  secondary 
importance.  The  Renaissance  has  also,  since  the  new  manage- 
ment, renounced  lyric  art,  nor  has  it  gone  in  for  real  comedy  or 
drama  ;  for  it  would,  to  say  the  least,  be  exaggeration  to  write  of 
the  "  Mission  Delicate  "  of  M.  Bisson  as  a  serious  play.  Properly 
speaking,  it  is  a  farce — a  farce  to  provoke  laughter — and  nothing 
else.  Two  friends  of  Captain  Picardon,  Messieurs  Labarede  and 
Pessonnois,  are  requested  by  this  officer  on  his  departure  for 
Africa  to  keep  an  eye  on  Mdlle.  Angelina,  a  young  lady  of  by 
no  means  spotless  virtue,  but  to  whom  the  Captain  has  given  his 
heart.  As  in  a  French  piece  like  this,  it  will  be  supposed,  instead 
of  guarding  the  lady's  virtue,  the  efforts  of  MM.  Labarede  and 
Pessonnois  are  directed  to  her  further  degradation.  Equally  easy, 
also,  is  it  to  predict  that  Captain  Picardon  returns  from  Africa 
just  when  he  is  least  expected,  and  that  he  finds  his  friend 
Labarede  basking  in  the  favours  of  Angelina,  the  said  friend 
narrowly  escaping  detection  by  Picardon  in  his  treacherous 
interview  with  Angelina.  Of  course,  Labarede  in  his  flight  forgets 
his  hat,  which  is  picked  up  by  the  hall  porter,  and  taken  to  the 
commissaire  de  police  of  the  parish,  as  a  means  of  identifying  the 
thief  that  is  supposed  to  have  entered  the  premises.  It  is  difficult 
to  analyse  the  embroglio  that  ensues.  Pessonnois  and  Labarede 
are  each  in  turn  arrested,  to  be  in  turn  set  at  liberty,  and  Captain 
Picardon,  who  has  learnt  the  infidelity  of  Angelina,  seeks  to 
revenge  himself  on  Labarede  by  having  the  wife  of  this  latter 
courted  by  a  young  nephew  of  his,  who  in  reality  is  in  love  with 
Mdlle.  Labarede  instead,  and  subsequently  marries  her.  The 
plot  is  so  complicated  as  sometimes  to  perplex  the  spectator,  and 
if  the  piece  was  saved  from  failure  this  was  due,  not  to  the  new, 
but  to  the  amusing,  incidents  it  contains.  Then  the  talent  of 


MARCH  i,  1886.]          PARIS    AT     THE    PLAY.  131 

St.  Germain  and  Delannois,  as  Labarede  and  Pessonnois, 
contribute  not  a  little  to  the  support  of  the  play,  the  success  of 
which  without  these  able  actors  would  have  been  doubtful  in  the 
extreme.  M.  Bisson  is  the  author  of"  Le  Depute  de  Bombignac," 
produced  some  time  ago  at  the  Theatre  Francais ;  but  I  doubt 
whether  his  latest  essay  will  equal  the  popularity  of  his  preceding 
work,  for  there  is  a  terrible  want  of  probability  about  the  whole 
piece.  The  scenes  are  neither  logically  nor  sufficiently  led  up  to, 
and,  although  on  the  stage  all  is  a  matter  of  convention,  still 
there  needs  at  least  to  be  some  connecting  link  or  some  motive 
for  the  different  situations  unravelled  before  the  eyes  of  the 
spectators.  M.  Bisson  would  seem,  in  fact,  to  have  overlooked 
all  stage  requirements. 

"  LA  COMEDIE  FRANCAISE."    I  need  not  tell  the  readers  of  THE 
THEATRE  that  every  French  actor  has  an  ambition,  more  or  less 
pronounced,  to  become  a  societaire  of  the  Comedie  Frangaise.  The 
fact  is  already  well  known.     The  position  is  one,  as  a  rule,  com- 
bining glory  with  profit ;  but  there  have  been  artistes  who  have 
voluntarily  renounced  the  honour  because  they  have  not  deemed 
the   pecuniary   advantages   sufficient.       Amongst    these    I    may 
mention  Mdme.  Plessis,  Mdlle.  Rachel,  and,  only  recently,  Sarah 
Bernhardt.      Generally,  however,  the  societariat  so  much  sought 
after    is   not   given   up ;     for   not   only   are   the   members  well 
remunerated  when  acting,  but  they  are  entitled,  when  the  period 
for  retiring  comes,  to  a  pension,  which  puts  them  for  ever  beyond 
the  reach  of  want.     The  company  is  divided  into  pensionnaires  and 
societaires  ;  these  latter,  when  they  leave  the  house  before  their 
term  of  service  is  ended,  can  re-enter  as  pensionnaires  f  but  not  as 
societaires.     Mdme.  Plessis  and  Mdlle.  Rachel  both  returned  to 
the  Rue  Richelieu  in  this  way.     It  would  take  up  too  much  of  your 
space  to  fully  describe  the  organisation  of  this  house,  which  is 
almost   the  same  now  as  it  was  under  Napoleon  I.,  who  by  a 
decree,  dated  from  Moscow,  drew  all  its  principal  rules.      The 
house  is  managed  by  a  director  appointed  by  the  Minister.      M. 
Jules  Claretie,  who  has  recently  succeeded  to  M.  Emile  Perrin, 
did  not,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  find  the  historic  establishment  in  so 
flourishing  a  condition  as  one  might  suppose.      To  tell  the  truth, 
the  budget  is  burdened  with  such  heavy  charges  that  it  is  certain 
the  engagement  of  pensionnaires  will  not  be  as  numerous  in  the 
future  as  they  have  been  in  the  past.     The  following  is  the  list  of 


132  THE  THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 

pensions  paid   by   the   house   to   retired  societaires,  the   amount 
varying,  as  will  be  seen,  according  to  the  years  of  service  : — 

£  s.  d. 

Mdme.  Melingue  retired  in   1852    after     9  years'  service  140  o  o 

Mdme.   Denain           „         ,      1856      „       16       „          ,           160  o  o 

232  o  o 

328  o  o 

200  o  o 

256  o  o 


M.  Maillart  ,, 

M.  Geffroy  ,, 

Mdme.  Judith  ,, 
Mdme.  Augustine  Brohan 

M.  Lafontaine  ,, 
Mdme.  Lafontaine 
M.  Bressant 

M.  Talbot  „ 


,, 


2O 


1865  ,,      36 

1866  ,,      14 
1868      ,,      27 


1871  „  8  „  „  80  o  o 

1871  ,,  8  ,,  „  80  o  o 

1879  „  23  „  „  224  o  o 

1879  „  23  „  „  224  o  o 

Mdme.  Favart            „         ,,     1880  ,,  31  „  „  294  o  o 

Mdme.  Dinah  Felix  ,,         ,,     1882  ,,  20  ,,  „  200  o  o 

Mdme.  Croizette        „         ,,     1883  ,,  12  ,,  ,,  90  o  o 

Mdme.  Riquier           ,,         ,,     1884  „  28  ,,  ,,  265  12  o 

Mdme.  Madelaine  Brohan ,,     1885  ,,  34  ,,  ,,  316  12  o 


Total  ...     £"3,090     4     o 

To  this  sum  must  be  added  that  for  pensions  paid  to  pensionnaires, 

namely,  Mesdames  Devoyod,  Arnould  Plessy,  Emma  Fleury,  and 

M.    Chery,  which  amounts  to  £640,  then  the  pensions    for  25 

employes  reaches  £755  8s.,  and  actors'  widows  come  in  for  £444, 

making  in  all  £4,299  125.,  which  would  be  a  heavy  tax  on  the 

revenue  of  the  theatre  if  it  had  to  be  taken  from  the  nightly  receipts 

or  from  the  subvention  granted  by  Government.     Indeed,  but  for 

an   ingenious  arrangement,  which  I  will    explain,  the  Comedie 

Fran9aise  would  probably  have  an  annual  deficiency.   The  salary  of 

a  societaire,  entitled  to  what  is  called  a  full  share,  is  £580,  besides  a 

share  in  the  profits,  only  half  of  which  latter  the  societaire  receives 

till  he  or  she  retires ;  the  other  half  being  kept  in  hand,  and  no 

interest  even  paid  on  it.      No  matter  how  many  years  an  actor 

may  have  belonged  to  the  house,  not  a  fraction  of  this  moiety  of 

his  share  in  the  profits  can  be  utilised  by  him  till  he  finally  retires. 

The  pensionnaires,  who  are  like  artistes  engaged  in  other  theatres, 

have,  of  course,  nothing  kept  back   from  the  payments  due  to 

them,  because  they  are  paid  fixed  salaries,  and  are  not  entitled  to 

share  the  profits.     One  thing  is  certain,   that  if  the  societaires  had 

only  £580  per  annum,  they  would  be  less  well  paid  than  are  actors 

in  the  minor  theatres  of  Paris  ;  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  chief 

source  of  revenue  is  the  share  of  profits  I  have  alluded  to.  Although 

this  house  is  in  a  state  of  prosperity  now,  the  new  director,  M. 

Jules  Claretie,  has  determined,  with  a  view  to  guarding  against  all 


i,  1886.]        PARIS   AT    THE    PLAY.  133 

possible  eventualities,  to  keep  the  present  expenses  down,  and  to 
refrain  from  increasing  the  number  of  his  artistes.  Many  noble 
enough  aspirations  may  be  blighted  by  this  decision  ;  but,  besides 
the  economical  reasons,  which  alone  would  justify  it,  the  matter 
may  be  looked  at  from  still  another  point  of  view.  The  troupe  of 
the  Comedie  Franchise  is  a  numerous  one,  and  many  of  the  young 
members  possessed  of  talent  have  only  rare  opportunities  of 
appearing  before  the  public ;  therefore,  in  deciding  not  to  add  to 
the  staff,  except  under  very  rare  circumstances,  M.  Claretie  will 
give  these  rising  artistes  a  chance  of  been  seen  oftener — an  advan- 
tage for  which  many,  I  know  full  well,  will  be  grateful  to  him. 

The  theatrical  mine!  just  now  is  much  agitated  concerning  the 
question  of  free  passes,  which  some  directors  are  clamouring  to 
have  suppressed  altogether,  whilst  others  think  such  a  course 
would  be  impossible.  One  thing  is  certain,  and  that  is  that  the 
order  system  of  the  present  day  is  a  terrible  tax  upon  managers, 
•who  might  reply,  if  questioned,  as  the  late  J.  B.  Buckstone  did 
when  asked  why  he  had  not  written  anything  new  lately — "  That 
he  had  been  too  busy  writing  orders."  It  is  not  always  easy  to 
change  a  long-established  custom,  and  I  doubt,  for  instance,  if 
many  managers  would  be  found  disposed  to  claim  payment  for 
Press  seats.  Koning,  of  the  Gymnase,  is  of  opinion  that  such 
newspaper  proprietors  as  desire  to  notice  a  piece  should  pay  for 
the  places  they  require,  and  that,  on  the  other  hand,  theatrical 
managers  should  pay  for  all  their  daily  advertisements  (which  are 
not  paid  for  here,  as  in  England),  besides  the  particular  announce- 
ments they  are  continually  wanting  in  the  way  of  puffing,  publica- 
tion of  receipts,  a  ehange  of  cast,  &c.  This  would  be  a  radical 
reform,  easier  in  theory  than  in  practice.  I  think  a  journalist 
had  the  idea  before  M.  Koning  of  paying  for  his  seats  at  theatres. 
To  ensure  the  independence  of  theatrical  accounts  in  Le  Figaro, 
M.  de  Villemessent  endeavoured  to  compel  his  contributors  not  to 
go  to  a  theatre  without  paying  for  their  places.  After  lengthy 
discussions,  the  plan  was  acknowledged  to  be  an  impossible  one. 
and  the  reason  given  me  at  the  time  by  Auguste  Vitu,  the  noted 
dramatic  critic,  is  worthy  of  reproduction.  "  The  fashion,"  said 
he,  "  for  first  nights  has  so  spread  in  Paris,  of  late  years,  that  it 
is  difficult,  even  with  one's  money,  to  get  tickets,  for  they  are  taken 
up  by  agents  and  sold  at  fabulous  prices,  and  this,  generally,  before 
we  have  noticed  the  date  of  a  production."  A  paper  like  Le 

NEW   SERIES — VOL.  VII.  L 


134 


THE    THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886 


Figaro,  needing  a  certain  number  of  seats — one, 
dramatic  critic  being,  as  I  shall  presently  point  out,  insufficient — 
would  always  be  obliged  to  appeal  to  the  courtesy  of  the  manager 
to  get  the  seats  required,  at  box-office  prices ;.  and  thus,  being  in- 
debted to  him  for  this  favour,  the  critic's  independence  would  not 
be  more  assured  than  before.  About  the  same  time,  M.  de  Ville- 
messant  made  a  similar  trial  respecting  railways,  and  for 'a  certain 
period  no  representative  of  the  newspaper  took  advantage  of  the 
Press  privileges  granted  by  railway  companies.  The  motive  of 
independence  was  the  same,  namely,  so  that  reporters  should  be 
at  liberty  to  write  fully  of  accidents,  and  to  ask  for,  and  point  outr 
reforms  needed  ;  but  this  idea  also  was  quickly  abandoned  when 
it  was  seen  that  the  desired  results  could  not  be  better  assured  by 
the  change.  In  the  distribution  of  free  passes  there  is,  I  readily 
own,  a  terrible  abuse.  I  am  not  speaking  of  first  nights  here, 
when,  as  in  London,  most  of  the  house  is  given  away,  but  of  the 
following  performances,  for  which  secretaries  and  box-keepers  are 
besieged  by  requests  for  seats — requests  that  cannot  be  justified.. 
Still,  would  a  complete  refusal  for  all  orders  increase  receipts 
much? 

Some  of  the  directors  are  asking  the  Committee  of  Dramatic 
Authors  to  prohibit  free  passes  in  all  theatres.  Have  the  Com- 
mittee the  right  to  pronounce  such  a  decree  ?  This  needs  looking- 
into  ;  but  in  any  case,  why  ask  for  a  general  rule  ?  Why,  for 
instance,  does  not  M.  Koning  adopt  it  at  the  Gymnase  ?  Is  it  not 
always  easy  when  a  piece  is  doing  good  business  to  reply  nega- 
tively to  all  ticket  seekers  ;  and  when  a  play  only  draws  half  houses 
how  much  more  encouraging  it  is  for  the  artistes  to  play  to  a 
crowd  of  spectators  instead  of  rows  of  empty  benches  ? 

Koning  would  refuse  Press  seats ;  but  this  is  not  practicable  I 
think,  for  though  there  are  hosts  of  newspapers  that  could  well 
bear  that  or  any  other  expense,  to  others  it  would  be  a  considera- 
tion. It  has  been  said,  and  it  is  quite  true,  that  the  Press  cannot 
make  a  bad  piece  succeed,  but,  it  may  also  be  remarked,  that  the 
Press  can  help  on  a  play  that  is  only  passable,  and  prolong  its 
run ;  but  to  attain  this,  there  needs  to  be  a  certain  unanimity, 
and  the  notices  of  two  or  three  important  papers  are  not  sufficient. 
The  Press  service  for  the  first  nights  is,  it  must  be  acknowledged, 
a  big  consideration.  As  an  example  I  will  subjoin  what  I  know 
to  be  usual  for  at  least  one  leading  daily  here.  A  box  to  hold  five 


MARCH  i,  iSSG.]  77//i     ANGELS'      VISIT.  I35 

persons  for  the  editor  and  his  family,  a  similar  box  for  the  critic, 
two  stalls  for  the  writer  who  does  what  is  called  Lc  Courrier  d:t 
Theatre,  and  two  stalls  for  him  who  writes  the  A  rtidc  a  Cote,  or 
gossiping  notice  ;  not  to  mention  those  that  a  manager  would  not 
be  able  to  refuse  to  some  influential  members  of  the  staff.  In 
spite  of  all  this,  as  I  have  already  said,  I  doubt  whether  managers 
can  be  independent  of  the  Press ;  indeed,  it  is  to  facilitate  the 
labours  of  critics  that  dress  rehearsals  the  day  before  the  produc- 
tion have  been  introduced,  so  that  the  notices  may  duly  appear 
the  morning  after  the  first  representation.  There  is  one  other 
point  to  examine — it  is  that  of  author's  tickets,  which  arc  no  other 
than  free  passes.  The  author  of  a  piece  in  Paris  has  a  right  to  a 
certain  number  of  seats  which  he  is  at  liberty  to  sell,  or  give,  as 
he  chooses,  but  from  which  the  management  profits  nothing,  and 
should  these  be  done  away  with  too  ?  Will  the  manager  pay  his 
author  the  amount  the  tickets  are  worth  ? 

There  is  much  ado  about  nothing  in  all  this,  and  the  committee 
of  authors  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  question,  and  any  decision 
it  may  give  cannot  possibly  please  everyone,  but  it  is  so  the 
custom  in  this  red-tape-loving  country  to  submit  all  questions  to 
some  tribunal.  What  more  reason  is  there  for  this  institution  to 
pronounce  the  absolute  abolishment  of  all  orders,  than  there 
would  be  for  it  to  issue  a  decree,  whereby  all  theatres  should  be 
painted  one  colour. 


The  Angels'  Visit. 

AN  ALLEGORY  IN  VERSE. 

I  was  alone  !     The  City  sad  with  sleep, 
Where  tears  are  sown  that  time  alone  can  reap. 
Distance  before,  behind  the  darkened  street, 
The  empty  pavement  echoed  to  my  feet, 
And  mist-crown'd  spires  of  churches  to  the  sky 
Pointed  from  earth  to  heaven  reproachfully  ! 

I  passed  a  darkened  home — I  held  my  breath, 
Feeling  the  presence  and  the  chill  of  death— 

L  2 


I36  THE    THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 

There,  taper-lighted,  in  a  chamber  lay, 
Covered  with  flow'rs,  a  cold  face  cut  in  clay  ! 
One  woman  o'er  his  features  bent  to  scan 
The  marble  relic  of  what  once  was  man  ! 
The  lily  scent  revived  remembered  years, 
Each  flower's  chalice  held  the  dew  of  tears  ; 
Each  kiss  on  that  dear  forehead,  calm  and  white, 
Shut  out  the  world,  revealed  the  infinite  ! 
"  If  he  would  only  whisper  now,"  she  said. 
"  What  are'  the  buried  secrets  of  the  dead  ? 
"  If  he  could  only  wake  just  once  to  know 
"  The  bitter  truth  that  I  have  loved  him  so  ! 
"  This  one  lone  soul  I  would  have  died  to  save 
"  I  cannot  rescue  from  to-morrow's  grave." 
Revolt  and  anguish  in  her  senses  mix, 
As  from  her  neck  she  tears  a  crucifix ; 
Then  on  his  heart  she  leaves  it  in  the  gloom, 
And  kneels,  heart-broken,  in  that  haunted  room. 

Once  more  I  wandered — till  a  woman's  cry 

Shivered  to  all  the  pale  stars  in  the  sky. 

In  a  low  street,  neglected  and  alone, 

In  faded  beauty  and  with  heart  of  stone, 

Her  tarnished  hair  falling  on  soiled  neck, 

Of  all  that  once  was  beautiful  the  wreck, 

Lay  there  neglected  in  the  morning  grey — 

Man's  ruined  plaything  broken  by  the  way ! 

"  There  is  no  mercy  in  the  world,"  she  said, 

"  For  sinners  such  as  I,"  then  bowed  her  head, 

And  from  the  lips  that  once  were  roses  twain 

Poured  from  her  heart  release  of  prison'd  pain  : 

"  I  could  have  borne  the  sorrow  and  the  smart 

"  Men  seal  in  blood  upon  a  woman's  heart ; 

"  I  could  endure  reproach  of  the  defiled, 

"  And  die  a  thousand  deaths — to  save  my  child  ! 

"  I'd  suffer  all  that  such  as  I  endure, 

"  I  am  polluted — she  at  least  is  pure  ! 

"  They  took  my  child,  by  God's  sweet  mercy  sent, 

"  For  she  was  dying  for  my  nourishment ; 

"  Another's  arms  will  rock  her  to  her  rest, 

"  A  maiden  mother  soothe  her  on  her  breast ; 


MARCH  i,  1886.]  THE    ANGELS'     VISIT.  137 

"  The  patient  sisters  watch  her  troubled  sleep, 
"Whilst  I,  her  outcast  mother,  can  but  weep." 

I  wandered  on,  and  found  one  lonely  light 

Breaking  the  darkness  of  the  silent  night. 

There,  in  a  garden  hospital,  had  grown 

The  flowers  God  had  planted  for  his  own. 

Soft  guarded  by  sweet  sisters  undefiled, 

Lay,  rack'd  with  pain,  the  suffering  little  child. 

Fever  had  made  the  infant's  face  grow  old, 

And  agony  bedewed  her  hair  of  gold. 

"  There  may  be  hope,"  they  whispered  as  she  lay  ; 

"  God's  flowers  waken  at  the  dawn  of  day." 

And  as  they  spoke,  a  faint  flush  in  the  sky 

Gilded  the  sleeping  city  lovingly. 

From  out  the  lilac  of  the  lovely  east, 

Three  guardian  angels  were  from  heaven  released. 

One,  crowned  with  lilies,  to  death's  chamber  sped ; 

One  flew  to  raise  the  outcast's  lowly  head ; 

One  folded  wings  above  the  infant's  bed. 

Then  to  the  troubled  heart  one  angel  said  : 

"  Take  heart,  be  comforted,  though  he  be  dead. 

"  Love  is  a  bridge,  pass  on,  but  do  not  stay  ; 

"  Love  is  an  hour,  the  minutes  count,  but  pray. 

"  Life  has  divided  you,  oh  !  pause  and  see 

"  The  endless  rapture  of  eternity. 

"  He  waits  for  you  in  that  eternal  glow 

"  That  some  can  picture,  none  can  ever  know. 

"  The  love  desired  on  earth  is  sometimes  given 

"  To  those  who  pray,  and  meet  again  in  heaven." 

The  second  angel  soothed  the  outcast's  sighs, 
Kissing  the  tear-drops  from  her  weary  eyes  : 
"  You  loved  much  !     There  is  no  punishment, 
"  For  such  as  make  confession  and  repent. 
"  Come,  with  your  tears  to  wash  the  bruised  feet, 
"  Broken  with  stones  of  the  unlovely  street. 
"  Lean  on  the  sacred  heart,  its  pity  see  ; 
*      "  '  Depart  in  peace,  thy  faith  hath  saved  thee.' 
"  When  did  the  sinner  cry  in  vain  ?  Ah,  when  ? 
"  The  purest  saint  is  perfect  Magdalen." 


J38  THE     THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886 

The  third  sweet  angel  on  the  infant  smiled, 
And  soothed  with  sleep  the  suffering  little  child, 
And  the  sweet  sisters  watching  by  the  bed 
Knew  morn  had  come  and  agony  had  fled. 

The  sleeping  city  woke  to  life  anew, 
As  back  to  heaven  three  guardian  angels  flew  ; 
And  three  poor  tortured  creatures  felt  release, 
Chastened  by  comfort  of  a  promised  peace. 
Winging  their  rosy  way  to  realms  above, 
The  angels  pointed  to  Eternal  Love. 

CLEMENT  SCOTT. 


©ur  flfeusical^Boy. 


AT  the  risk  of  being  stigmatised  as  ,a  retardataire  by  the  readers  of  THE 
THEATRE,  I  must  crave  their  permission  this  month  to  say  a  few 
words  about  M.  Felix  Remo's  "  Music  in  Fog-Land,"  a  work  that  has 
already  been  frequently,  though  for  the  most  part  cursorily,  referred  to 
by  my  colleagues  of  the  daily  and  weekly  press,  who,  however,  with  one 
distinguished  exception,  have  failed  to  do  justice  to  its  chief  merits, 
whilst  laying,  as  it  seems  to  me,  over  heavy  stress  upon  its  incidental 
inaccuracies.  These  latter,  I  may  here  take  occasion  to  observe,  are  for 
the  most  part  unimportant  in  character ;  whereas  the  book  teems  from 
beginning  to  end  with  more  or  less  interesting  facts  and  with  correct 
information  relating  to  English  music  and  musicians,  to  collect  which 
must  have  cost  the  author  almost  inconceivable  pains  and  trouble.  Who 
he  is,fand  whether  Remo  be  really  his  name  or  only  a  nom  de  plume,  I 
know  not.  One  thing  is  very  certain — namely,  that  there  has  been  a 
"  chiel "  of  the  French  persuasion  "  amang  us  takin'  notes "  to  some 
purpose,  and  that  he  has  most  unquestionably  "  prented  'em."  I  have 
learned  more  about  the  personnel  of  the  musical  profession  in  my  native 
land  from  M.  Remo's  volume  than  I  had  ever  hoped  to  know,  until  I 
read  it.  Not  from  any  other  book  of  my  acquaintance  dealing  with  the 
same  subject  can  as  many  details  be  gathered  in  connection  with 
English  composers,  teachers,  and  executants,  known  and  unknown  to 
the  general  public.  In  this  particular  direction  the  ponderous  tones  of 
Grove's  Dictionary  of  Music  and  Musicians  is  not  "in  it"  with 
Remo's  "  La  Musique  au  Pays  des  Brouillards,"  which  tells  us  all  about 
our  leading  musical  amateurs  as  well  as  "  professionals,"  and  spells  their 
names,  exceptis  exripiendis,  with  an  accuracy  hitherto  unattained  by  Gallic 
writers  who  have  dealt  with  British  patronymics.  With  respect  to  London 


MARCH  i,  i3S6.J  OUR     MUSICAL-BOX.  139 

dilettanti,  M.  Remo's  information  is,  indeed,  no  less  curious— I  had 
almost  written  unique — than  various  and  comprehensive.  But  for  him, 
in  all  probability,  I,  in  common  with  many  other  of  his  readers,  should 
never  have  been  apprised  that  Mr.  Champann,  Major  John  Gollup, 
Mr.  Gracia,  Mr.  Gardom,  and  Mr.  Nokes  rank  as  eminent  amateurs  in 
the  musical  circles  of  this  metropolis.  He  has  also  brought  to  my 
knowledge  many  names  of  London  conductors,  organists,  pianists, 
singers,  and  oloisls  upon  all  kinds  of  musical  instruments,  of  which  I 
•was  previously  as  ignorant  as  is  an  average  alligator  of  trigonometry. 
Whilst  perusing  his  book  I  found  myself  recurrently  experiencing  that 
class  of  si  rprise  or  pleasurable  perplexity  which  is  undergone  by  the 
schoolboy  of  a  methodical  turn,  who,  feeling  in  his  favourite  breeches' 
pocket,  finds  himself  possessed  of  more  marbles  than  he  can  logically 
account  for.  M.  Remo's  eye  becomes  microscopic  when  it  is  engaged 
in  contemplating  any  particular  branch  of  the  English  musical  profession. 
Nothing  escapes  it,  however  insignificant  or  even  trivial.  It  sees  through 
shams,  no  matter  how  thickly  enveloped  in  wraps  of  respectability; 
strips  impostors  of  their  borrowed  plumes ;  espies  natural  deformities,  be 
they  ever  so  cunningly  padded  out  or  pinched  in  to  counterfeit 
.shapeliness  ;  and  recognises  the  sterling  metal  of  genuine  talent,  even 
•when  so  rusty  or  discoloured  as  to  resemble  worthless  dross  in  its  outer 
seeming. 

These  being  some  of  M.  Remo's  characteristics  as  a  writer  on  English 
.music  and  musicians,  I  need,  perhaps,  scarcely  remark  that  many  of  his 
criticisms  and  comments  are  horribly  personal.  There  is  scarcely  a  page 
of  his  book  in  which  the  unwritten  laws  of  literary  courtesy  are  not 
•daringly  violated,  or  in  which  the  exact  truth  is  not  told  about  some 
well-known  virtuoso  or  dilettante  with  inconsiderate  but  engaging 
frankness.  M.  Remo  is  beyond  a  doubt  no  respecter  of  persons,  but  a 
light-hearted  iconoclast,  delighting  in  the  overthrow  of  popular  idols, 
and,  when  he  has  shattered  them  into  fragments,  dancing  merrily  round 
their  disjecta  membra.  As  far  as  his  incisive  arraignments  of  individual 
humbugs  and  frauds  are  concerned,  I  do  not  propose  to  increase  their 
circulation  by  quoting  them  in  this  place.  Some  of  them  are  justly 
severe ;  others  unjustly  so.  Those  who  experience  any  curiosity 
respecting  M.  Remo's  opinions  of  our  celebrated  composers,  singers, 
and  teachers  of  music  must  read  his  book,  and  judge  for  themselves 
whether  or  not  its  superficial  scurrility  be  superimposed  upon  a  solid 
stratum  of  fact.  They  may  not  be  edified  by  the  "  more  than  American 
directness "  with  which  he  speaks  his  mind  about  hallowed  members  of 
the  profession  ;  but  they  will  assuredly  be  amused.  His  observations 
are  manifestly  free  from  any  hostile  animus,  even  when  most  startlingly 
uncivil ;  and  it  is  obvious  that  he  invariably  means  to  be  veracious, 
although  he  is  not  always  perfectly  successful— as  what  human  being 
is  ? — in  his  endeavour  to  be  so.  But  as  he  is  no  whit  less  diverting 
when  he  generalises  than  when  he  particularises,  I  cannot  withstand  the 
temptation  to  reproduce,  in  translation,  a  few  of  the  more  trenchant 


i4o  THE    THEATRE.  [MARCH,  i,  1886, 

sentences  which  he  passes  upon  English  social  classes,  cliques,  and 
institutions  more  or  less  directly  connected  with  the  practice  of  the 
musical  art  in  this  country. 

M.  Remo  finds  fault  with  what  he  calls  "  the  English  method  "  of 
private  music  teaching.  "  To  learn  music,"  he  observes,  "  you  must 
begin,  as  in  learning  a  language,  with  the  grammar.  This  is  not  how 
English  teachers  instruct  their  pupils.  They  begin  by  setting  a  piece  of 
music  before  them,  and  trying  ta  make  them  play  it.  Consequently, 
children  toil  for  years,  and  know  no  more  at  the  end  of  their  labours  than- 
they  did  at  the  beginning  ;  their  parents  spend  large  sums  of  money,  and 
make  sacrifices  which  turn  out  utterly  futile.  The  child  is  ignorant  of 
every  rule  ;  it  just  knows  the  notes  of  its  own  '  piece/  at  which  it  hammers 
away  for  ten  years  or  so — that  is  to  say,  until  it  gets  married  and  gives  up 
music,  which  it  loathes,  having  only  too  good  cause  to  do  so.  Ask  any 
young  English  girl  in  society  to  accompany  a  song  at  sight,  or  to  sing  & 
part  in  a  concerted  morceau  she  has  never  seen  before.  Can  she  do  it, 
think  you  ?  No  ;  in  virtue  of  a  hallowed  fallacy,  she  will  tell  you  that 

*  reading  at  sight  is  a  gift.'     Now  it  is  no  more  a  '  gift '  than  reading  the- 
newspaper  is  a  gift ;  it  is  simple  routine,  acquired  with  the  greatest  possible- 
ease,  if  only   you  are  taught  by  a  real  musician.      I  regret  to  say  that 
England  possesses  few  such — that  is,  amongst  its  professional   teachers. 
What  would  you  say  to  a  schoolmaster  who  should  teach  you  a  leading- 
article  by  ear,  instead  of  making  you  learn  the  alphabet  and  spell,  so  that, 
you  might  read  it  for  yourself  ?     Yet  this  is  exactly  the  way  in  which. 

*  pieces  '  are  taught  to  English  children  by  their  music-mistresses  and 
masters."     How  true  this  is,  British  middle-class  parents  by  the  thousand 
know  to  their  sorrow  and  mortification.  The  following  remarks,  addressed 
to  a  well-known  variety  of  the  London  "musical  lady,"  and   to  the  pro- 
fessionals who  are  her  favourite  victims,    are  very  much  to  the   point  L 
"  Madam,  you  complain  of  being  bombarded   with  concert-tickets  ;  but. 
you  forget  that  the  artists  who  have  sung  and  played  '  for  love  '  at  your 
parties  have  no  other  way  of  making  you  pay  for  their   gloves  and  cabs~ 
It  is  you  who,  by  multiplying  your   '  musical   evenings,'   have  increased 
the  number  of  the  concerts  given   during  the  season  ;  for  each   several 
artist  is  obliged  to  give  at  least  one,  in  order  to  get  a  guinea  apiece  out 
of  you  and  those  like  you.     Why  should  they  go  on  for  ever  making  you 
a  present  of  their  talents  and  their  time  ?     Do  doctors  and  lawyers  put 
on  their  tail-coats  every  evening  for  the  purpose  of  giving  advice  gratis 
at  parties  ?     Pray  understand  that  an  artist  has  to  live  by  his   art,  as  a 
baker  by  his  bread.     He  finds  it  easy  enough  to  sing  and  play,  truly ;  but 
he  has  had  to  learn  to  do  so,  he  is  obliged  to  keep  his  voice  or  his  fingers 
in  working  order  by  constant  practice,    he  has  to  dress  in   presentable 
clothes,  and  to  wear  a  smile  on  his  face,  as  well  as  a  white  cravat  round 
his  neck.     Do  you  think  it  amuses  him  to  put  on  a  society  grin,  particu- 
larly when  his  larder  at  home  is  empty  ?    Artists,  a  word  with  you,  too.. 
You  complain  that  the  guineas  are  reluctant ;  but  you  have  spoilt  your 
own  game.     Why  are  you  so  lavish  of  your  gifts  ?     If  you  never  accepted 


MARCH  i,  1886.]  OUR     MUSICAL-BOX.  141 

any  invitation  that  did  not  enclose  your  fee — say,  in  a  discreet  postscript 
— people  would  soon  get  accustomed  to  paying  you  your  due,  just  as  they 
pay  their  medical  and  legal  advisers.  I  know  that  certain  people  invite 
you  to  their  houses  '  as  friends.'  Don't  believe  a  word  of  it ;  it  is  a  pre- 
text for  thrift ;  their  world  is  not  yours.  You  are  at  once  above  and 
below  them ;  art  and  society  are  two  parallel  lines  which  can  never  meet 
to  blend  in  the  course  of  nature.  They  are  *  on  terms ' ;  they  make  use 
of  one  another  ;  but  in  reality  they  cannot  amalgamate,  having  no  tastes 
in  common.  Artists  serve  society-ladies  as  padding  for  their  parties  ; 
society  is  the  artist's  client  and  cash-box.  If  these  ladies  ask  you  '  as 
friends,'  why  do  they  make  you  work  ?  When  I  ask  my  doctor  to  dinner 
I  don't  show  him  my  chilblains  at  dessert." 


On  an  English  social  custom,  "  more  honoured  in  the  breach  than  in 
the  observance,"  M.  Remo  has  a  sharpish  word  or  two  to  say.  "  In 
London  drawing-rooms  singers  are  sometimes  listened  to,  whereas 
instrumentalists,  whose  performances  are  the  result  of  long  and  painfu) 
toil,  invariably  promote  conversation.  As  soon  as  the  piano  raises  its 
voice  everybody  starts  talking  with  surprising  unanimity.  Lips  silent 
until  then,  forthwith  find  plenty  to  say  for  themselves.  The  louder  the 
playing,  the  noisier  the  chatter.  On  one  occasion,  a  pianist  having  taken 
a  base  advantage  of  his  muscular  strength  by  endeavouring  to  dominate 
the  tumult  around  him,  the  lady  of  the  house  came  up  to  him  and  begged 
him  *  not  to  play  so  loud,  for  her  friends  positively  could  not  hear  them- 
selves speak  ! '  On  another  occasion,  Silas — a  fine  player  who  objects  to 
be  used  as  a  stimulant  to  small-talk — replied  to  a  lady  who  asked  him  to 
'play  something,'  *  Really  there  is  no  necessity  that  I  should  play,  as  far 
as  I  can  see ;  they  are  well-started,  and  will  talk  capitally  without  my 
assistance.'"  Amateur  singing  in  society  fails  to  secure  M.  Remo's 
undivided  approbation.  "  When,"  he  asks,  "  will  English  amateurs  come 
to  understand  that  before  parading  their  infirmities  in  public  they  should 
serve  a  serious  apprenticeship,  in  order  not  to  prove  a  social  curse  ?  If 
their  singing,  such  as  it  is,  amuses  them,  let  them  sing  to  themselves,  in 
their  garret  or  in  their  coal-cellar,  instead  of  submerging  their  friends 
under  floods  of  incapacity  !  And  politeness  hinders  us  from  crying  aloud 
for  mercy !  Hypocrites  that  we  are  !  Society  ought  to  rise  in  its  wrath 
and  put  down  these  abominations,  which  interfere  with  our  digestions  and 
tie  our  nerves  up  in  knots.  And  yet,  as  soon  as  one  of  those  pretty 
mouths  that  are  intended  for  kisses  rather  than  for  songs  begins  to  hurl 
outrages  on  the  musical  ear,  people  listen — and  listen  without  laughing  t 
The  patience  of  English  folk  is  something  admirable."  .  .  .  "Melo- 
mania  is  an  endemic  malady  by  which  English  society  is  chronically 
afflicted.  No  one  escapes  it.  Its  diagnosis  is  always  of  an  alarming 
character,  and  every  remedy  hitherto  essayed  or  suggested  by  science  has 
proved  futile." 


M.  Remo  is  severely  down  upon  the   English  "  goody-gaudy "  (sic) 
people  who  object  to  music  on  Sundays,  but  admits  that  Londoners  are 


i42  THE   THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 

rapidly  emancipating  themselves  from  their  prejudices  in  that  direction. 
He  even  thinks  that,  as  far  as  the  orgies  of  sound  indulged  in  on  the 
Sabbath  by  the  Salvation  Army  in  the  streets  of  the  metropolis,  we  carry 
tolerance  beyond  reasonable  limits.  This  description  of  the  Army's 
musical  promenades  through  our  principal  thoroughfares  is  remarkably 
graphic  and  forcible:  "The  big  drum,  brasses,  and  banners  lead  the 
way ;  the  proselytes  follow.  A  man,  marching  all  the  while,  bellows  a 
sort  of  sermon  in  a  voice  like  the  blast  of  a  fog-horn.  At  his  heels 
straggles  along  a  crew  of  ragamuffins  and  idlers,  and  a  select  company  of 
dirty,  dishevelled,  unsavoury  persons — the  men  dressed  in  wrecks  of 
coats,  in  rebellious  waistcoats  that  refuse  to  be  buttoned,  in  frames  of 
what  were  once  boots,  picked  up  out  of  gutters ;  the  women  in  sordid, 
anachronistic  garments,  which  look  amazed  and  horrified  at  being 
brought  into  contact  with  one  another,  with  spectral  bonnets  above 
which  skeletonian  feathers  wave  grimly,  with  sexless  shoes,  and  dis- 
coloured, filthy  shawls.  All  this  human  vermin,  all  this  zoology,  yelling, 
screaming,  and  braying,  follows  its  leaders — the  scum  of  the  hulks — 
into  one  of  the  numerous  halls,  wherein  these  conscience-botchers  drill 
their  recruits  and  classify  their  proselytes.  These  detachments  of  the 
Salvation  Army  are  walking  advertisements  of  the  tremendous  mockery 
of  religion  which  is  permitted  in  London  by  those  who  object  to  music 
on  Sundays." 


''Music  in  Fog-Land"  abounds  in  good  stories  and  smart  sayings  by 
social  humourists  of  all  nations,  except  the  German.  The  "  winged 
words  "  of  eminent  Frenchmen,  Italians,  Russians,  and  Englishmen  have 
been  deftly  caught  in  their  flight  by  M.  Remo  and  caged  in  his  book. 
He  reports  a  "memorable  aphorism"  by  Theophile  Gautier — "Music  is 
the  most  expensive  and  disagreeable  of  noises " — as  having  been 
4C  thought  out  in  London,"  and  adds  that  "  it  logically  led  him  (Gautier) 
to  print  the  following  warning  above  his  poems : — '  It  is  forbidden  to 
deposit  any  music  along  these  verses.' "  .  .  .  "  When,"  he  avers, 
"  certain  young  English  ladies  of  fashion,  addicted  to  mangling  his 
romances,  ask  Paolo  Tosti  what  he  thinks  of  their  singing,  he  replies, 
'You  dress  very  well;  but  you  sing  very  badly."'  ....  "Any 
professor  of  singing  who  respects  himself  is  bound  to  take  the  predicate 
of  Signer.  It  is  not  his  real  business  to  be  a  professor,  but  to  be  an 
Italian.  I  asked  an  eminent  singing-master  one  day,  '  What  is  your 
profession?'  '  Italian,'  he  replied.  '  And  where  were  you  born  ?'  'In 
Belgium  !  "  .  .  .  "  The  butler  of  a  great  lady  of  fashion  was  over- 
heard by  her,  one  day,  discussing  the  vicissitudes  of  life  with  a  fellow- 
servant.  '  My  dear  feller,'  he  ejaculated,  '  I  am  afraid  that  our  people 
are  going  in  for  economy.  Only  fancy  !  at  the  party  yesterday  evening  I 
see  with  my  own  eyes  my  lady  and  Miss  Hisabel  a-playin'  on  one  piano 
at  the  same  time  !  "  .  .  .  Some  unfamiliar  facts  about  the  national 
music  of  Scotland  and  Wales  may  be  culled  from  M.  Remo's  chapter  on 
that  subject ;  as,  for  instance,  that  the  "  gig  "  is  a  favourite  Caledonian 
dance,  performed  to  the  sound  of  the  Jew's-harp  or  trumpet.  "  Nothing,'* 


MARCH  i,  1886.]  OUR    MUSICAL-BOX.  143 

he  continues,  "  is  more  curious  than  Welsh  music.     When  the  world  was 
mere   chaos,    music   assumed  a  regular  form   in   Wales.      The   Bards, 
disdainful  of  the  Ark,  kept  a  boat  of  their  own  during  the  Deluge.     The 
melodies  sung  by  King  David,  as  well  as  the  martial  lays  of  the  Trojan 
War,    were   Welsh   tunes.      King  Arthur   of  the   Round   Table   was  a 
Welshman ;     he    conquered    Europe,    lived    six    hundred    years,    and 
composed   a  symphony."      Surely  Llyw  Llywydd  or  Pencerdd  Gwalia 
must  have   been  coaching   M.  Remo  for  this   portion  of  his   musical 
information  !      .      .      .      A  few   of  the   lively   Frenchman's   items   of 
"  personal    information"    are    worthy    of    note.     He   credits    us   with 
the  possession  of  a  great   English  baritone,  "Stanley,    the    Faure    of 
Albion;"  remarks   that  "Herbert"    Parry  is   rather    dry;  speaks    with 
sincere    respect   of  "  Sir  Arthur    Chappell,"  and    with    somewhat  con- 
strained admiration  of  the  eminent  *''  German  conductor,  Herr  Walter 
Bache ;"  mentions    "Adelaide    Dutchons    and    Constance    Losby"   as 
public  singers  of  well-merited  fame ;  and  admits  that  "  The  Blind  Girl 
to  her  Heart "  is  really  a  meritorious  English  romance.     He  also  alludes 
to  Misses  Mary  Anderson  and  Fortescue  as  "pearls  of  the  theatre"  in 
connection  with  music.     But  these  eccentric  personalia  are  rare  excep- 
tions to  his  rule  of  accuracy,  which  for  the  most  part  is  strictly  observed 
in  connection  with  the  more  intimate  details  of  the   book.     When  so 
well-informed  a  writer  as  M.  Remo  refers  to  "  Haendel's  Elijah  "  as  a 
sublime  oratorio,  one  cannot  help  suspecting  that  a  waggish  printer  must 
have  been  the  author  of  that  surprising  statement.     However  this  may 
be,  no  "cheerier  volume  than  "  Music  in  Fog-Land  "  has  been  published, 
even    in  Paris,  for  many  a    month    past ;    and   I   confidently  urge    its 
perusal  upon  all  those  musicians — native  to  this  soil — who,  themselves 
pachydermatous,  delight  in  seeing  the  thinner  skin  of  their  more  sensitive 
fellow-artists  smartly  punctured  with  the  keen  point,  dipped  in  gall,  of  a 
finely- tempered  pen. 


On  the  4th  of  last  month,  at  Liverpool,    Madame  Roze-Mapleson 
created  the  part  of  Donna  Maria,   Queen  of  Spain,  in  Marchetti's 
opera,  "  Ruy  Bias,"  and  added  another  brilliant  item  to  her  long  list 
of  artistic  triumphs.    .The  first  production  of  this  pleasing  work  in  its 
English  garb— the  less  said  about  which  the  better,  though  certain 
passages  of  the  libretto  deserve  mention  as  yielding  in  no  single  respect 
of  literary  vileness  to  the  choicest  ineptitudes  of  the  poet  Bunn— took 
place  in  the  Court  Theatre  of  Liverpool  before  "a  crowded,  brilliant, 
and  discrimating  house  "  (I  quote  from  a  leading  local  paper),   and 
"  was  welcomed  with  every  manifestation  of  popular  approval."  Marie 
Roze  had  played  her  part  in  America  (according  to  my  esteemed 
Liverpudlian  colleague)  with  the  support  of  Sinico,  Campanini,  Galassi, 
and  Lablache,  "  so  that  the  prima  donna   in  this  presentation  "   gave 
"  a  matured  and  ripened  reading  of  the  character  of  the  Queen."  I  did 
not  know  that  dear  old  Lablache  had  ever  crossed  the  Atlantic ;  any- 
way, Marie  Roze  is  but  young  to  have  sung  with  that  inimitable  basso, 
whose  lamented  death  took  place  eight  and  twenty  years  ago.     The 


144  THE    THE  A  TRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 

opera,  too,  for  him  to  have  sung  in  it,  must  have  been  composed  in  the 
'fifties  at  the  very  latest ;  if  so,  the  total  omission  of  its  composer's 
name  from  the  pages  of  Grove's  ponderous  Dictionary  of  Music  and 
Musicians  would  seem  to  point  to  reprehensible  negligence  on  Sir 
George's  part.  However  this  may  be,  I  cannot  help  thinking  it  a  little 
ungallant  of  the  musical  critic  who  enriches  the  columns  of  the  Liver- 
pool  Daily  Post  with  his  accurate  retrospects,  to  carry  his  readers  so  very 
far  back  in  the  operatic  career  of  the  gifted  and  beautiful  French  prima 
donna.  It  is,  of  course,  immensely  creditable  to  her  to  have  sung  the  lead- 
ing part  in  an  Italian  grand  opera  at  the  age  of  ten,  and  with  so  great  a 
dramatic  vocalist  as  Lablache  ;  but  cantatrid  are  such  whimsical 
creatures,  and  so  difficult  to  please,  that  I  doubt  her  gratitude  to  the 
Liverpool  Daily  Post  for  raking  up  such  an  old,  old  story  a  son  adresse. 
To  return  to  the  production  of  "  Ruy  Bias."  Mr.  Valentine  Smith 
sustained  the  title  role,  and,  according  to  the  Liverpool  Echo,  "achieved 
a  distinct  triumph,  bidding  fair  to  become  one  of  the  ^"5,000  a  year 
tenors,  for  which  (sic),  it  is  said,  there  is  a  demand."  You  see,  never 
having  been  to  Liverpool  or  America,  I  have  not  heard  "  Ruy  Bias  " 
yet,  and  so  am  dependent  upon  my  confreres  of  the  Mersey  for  whatever 
details  of  the  initial  performance  I  may  venture  to  offer  to  the  readers 
of  THE  THEATRE.  By  one  of  these  gentlemen  the  music  is  figuratively 
described  as  "  somewhat  sombre,"  and  "  at  the  end  of  two  of  the  acts 
massive  in  unison  with  the  development  of  the  tragedy."  It  is  pleasant 
to  know  from  the  same  authority  that  "  a  pretty  air  ripples  through 
the  whole  opera,"  and  that  Miss  Marion  Burton  "  received  a  reception 
that  can  only  be  characterised  as  extraordinary."  By  the  way,  the 
critic  of  the  .Liverpool  Courier  confidently  asserts  that  Marchetti's  opera 
was  first  brought  out  in  his  native  city,  Milan,  at  the  Teatro  della 
Scala,  on  April  3,  1869.  How  may  we  reconcile  this  statement  with 
that  advanced  by  the  Liverpool  Daily  Post,  which  distinctly  infers  that 
"Ruy  Bias  "  was  performed  in  the  United  States  fully  thirty  years 
ago  ?  When  doctors  differ  ...  It  would  seem  that  Signer 
Marchetti  must  be  an  imitative  rather  than  a  creative  maestro,  for  of 
the  three  criticisms  of  "  Ruy  Bias  "  forwarded  to  me  from  Liverpool, 
one  describes  that  work  as  teening  with  reminiscences  of  Bellini ; 
another  observes  that  it  recalls  the  "  methods  and  ensembles "  of 
Donizetti ;  and  the  third  lays  stress  upon  its  strong  resemblance  to  the 
melodic  manner  of  Meyerbeer.  If  these  judgments  be  all  equally 
correct,  the  music  of  "  Ruy  Bias "  will  probably  sound  rather 
familiar  in  the  ears  of  London  opera-goers  when  Mr.  Carl  Rosa  shall 
reproduce  it  at  Drury  Lane  next  May.  Meanwhile,  the  quality  of 
its  stupendous  libretto  may  be  [fairly  appraised  by  the  following 
specimen  : — Cantat,  Don  Sallust  : 

Nothing  from  you  there's  need  to  hide, 

Tis  the  truth  he  confessed  thee  ; 
W\th  your  handmaid  as  bride 

You  once  would  have  blessed  me, 
And  as  lover  in  turn 
You  my  lackey  must  not  spurn. 


MARCH  i,  1886.]  OUR  MUSICAL-BOX.  145 

It  would  be  difficult  to  match  these  lines,  even  in  the  lyrics  of  "The 
Bohemian  Girl,"  for  grammatical  incorrectness,  obscurity  of  meaning, 
and  confusion  of  persons.  I  cannot  conscientiously  congratulate  my 
friend  Carl  Rosa  upon  his  latest  selection  in  the  librettist  line. 


Poor  Amilcare  Ponchielli,  who  died  so  unexpectedly  the  other 
day,  was  one  of  the  most  absent  men  in  Italy.  He  was  once  asked 
to  write  a  waltz  specially  for  a  charity  ball,  and  consented  to  do  so. 
Looking  over  his  musical  memoranda  for  a  motivo,  he  found  one, 
hurriedly  noted  down  by  his  own  hand,  that  pleased  him  well.  At 
once  he  set  to  to  work  to  orchestrate  it.  That  done,  he  gave  out  the 
parts  to  the  instrumentalists  hired  for  the  ball,  and  volunteered  to 
lead  them  in  person  when  they  should  play  "  his  new  waltz"  at  the 
festivity  in  question.  This  fact  was  duly  announced,  and  drew  numbers 
of  his  friends  and  admirers  to  the  entertainment.  What  was  every- 
body's astonishment  at  recognising  in  Ponchielli's  "  novelty"  an  old 
familiar  waltz  by  John  Strauss,  to  which  all  Milan  had  danced  scores 
of  times!  Ponchielli  had  heard  it,  liked  it,  written  it  down  from 
memory,  forgotten  it,  lound  it,  believed  that  it  was  his  very  own,  and 
arranged  it  for  orchestra — I  need  hot  say,  to  his  own  overwhelming  con  - 
fusion  anddiscomfiture.  He  lived  a  long  way  from  the  Conservatoire,  at 
which  he  was  one  of  the  professors  of  harmony.  One  day,  his  duties 
terminated,  he  had  trudged  home  in  the  pouring  rain.  Just  as  he 
reached  his  door,  soaked  to  the  skin,  he  remembered  that  he  had  left  his 
umbrella  in  his  class-room.  Muttering,  "  What  if  it  should  rain  ?  I 
should  get  wet  through  ;'I  must  fetch  it,'' — he  walked  all  the  way 
back  to  the  Conservatoire,  found  his  umbrella,  and  hurried  home 
again,  bearing  it  unopened  in  his  hand.  On  another  occasion  he 
attended  a  concert  at  Milan,  in  the  programme  of  which  was 
announced  his  "  Dance  of  the  Hours,"  out  of  "Gisconda,"  for  perform- 
ance at  the  end  of  the  second  part.  The  first  part,  however,  closed 
with  the  Festal  March  from  "  Tannhaeuser,"  which — as  usual  in 
Italy — was  vehemently  applauded ;  whereupon  Ponchielli,  aroused  from 
his  meditations,  arose  in  his  place  and  bowed  gratefully  to  the 
audience,  fully  convinced  that  his  ballabile  had  been  played  and 
elicited  the  plaudits  of  those  present.  When  his  "  Promessi  Sposi " 
was  produced  at  the  Scala,  he  rushed  upon  the  stage  at  the  close  of 
of  the  first  act — which  had  been  enthusiastically  received — to  express- 
his  delight  and  gratitude  to  the  prima  donna,  Signora  Brambilla 
(whom  he  subsequently  married,  by  the  way) ;  and,  to  the  amazement 
of  everybody  on  the  stage,  threw  his  arms  round  the  neck  of  a  steady- 
going  old  singing- super,  grown  grey  in  the  service  of  the  impresa, 
whom  he  kissed  with  effusion  on  both  cheeks,  exclaiming,  "  Angel  of 
melody  !  admirable  creature  !  supreme  artist!  I  thank  and  adore  you!  " 
Milan  society  teems  with  kindly  reminiscences  of  "le  distrazioni 
del  maestro  Amilcare/'  who  was  one  of  the  kindest  and  most  amiable 


146  THE    THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 

gentlemen,  as  well  as  most  consummate  musicians,  of  the  Land  of 
Song. 

On  Saturday  evening,  Feb.  13,  a  "new  and  original  whimsicality  " 
was  produced  by  Mr.  D'Oyly  Carte  at  the  Savoy  Theatre  as  a  lever 
de  rideau  to  "  The  Mikado,"  which  still  draws  remunerative  audiences 
to  the  home  of  Gilbertian  eccentricities  and  Sullivanesque  enchant- 
ments;   The  novelty  bears  the  somewhat  mysterious  title  of  "  The 
Carp,"  and   is  the  joint  production  of  Messrs.  Frank  Desprez  and 
Alfred  Cellier, — Englishmen  both,  although  appearances  are  against 
them,  as  far  as  their  patronymics  are  concerned.       It  achieved  a  no 
less  positive  than  well-deserved  success.     Mr.  Desprez's  dialogue  is 
bright  and  entertaining,  whilst  his  lyrics,  in  more  than  one  respect, 
offer   a   refreshing  contrast  to  the    silly,    ungrammatical   stuff  with 
which  some  of  our  so-called  comic  librettists  do  not  hesitate— for  a 
consideration — to  afflict  the  theatrical  public.     Graceful  and  shapely 
melodies    abound    in    Mr.    Cellier's    music,    which,     moreover,    is 
orchestrated  with  all  that  delicate  taste  in  the  combination  and  con- 
trast of  tone-colours  for  which  this  highly-gifted  composer  is  so  justly 
renowned.    The  plot  of  "  The  Carp  "  is  new,  ingenious,  and  pleasantly 
absurd.     It  belongs  to  the  realm  of  Topsyturvydom,  and  is,  therefore, 
tully  entitled  to  les  droits  de  domicile  at  the  Savoy.       Unrequited  love 
suggests  self-destruction  to  an  agreeable  youth  and  maiden,  personally 
unacquainted   with   one    another,    although  they    have  "  friends"  in 
common.     They   gravitate,  on   suicidal   thoughts  intent,  towards  a 
pond  in  which  a  carp,  full  of  years  and  wiliness,  abides.  This  ancient 
and  astute  fish,  for  years  unnumbered  (antecedent  to  the  action  of  the 
piece)     has   baffled   the    piscatorial   devices   of    an    elderly    angler, 
bent    upon    its   capture.       He   is   profoundly    engaged    in    one    of 
his     periodical    attempts    to    lure     the    reluctant     carp     from     its 
native    element    when    the    sorrow-laden     youth   strolls   up  to    the 
pool-side  and  announces  his  intention  of  making  a  hole  in  the  water. 
Piscator  beseeches  him  to  forego  his  dread  purpose,  at  least  for  a 
while,  lest  he  alarm  the  venerable  fish — which,  with  the  fatuity  of 
an  inveterate  angler,  he  believes  himself  to  be  just  on  the  point  of 
catching,  though  it  has  successfully  defied  his  skill  throughout  a  period 
to  which  the  memory  of  man  attaineth  not.       Whilst  the  despondent 
one  is  waiting  for  the  carp  to  be  caught,  the  would-be  Ophelia  appears 
upon   the  scene,  and  is  persuaded  to  put  off  her  apotheosis  by  the 
identical  plea  previously  urged  upon  her  companion    in  misfortune. 
The  two  young  people  linger  by  the  bank  and  enter  into  conversation. 
They  soon  find  out  that  they  know  each  other's  faithless  lovers,  in 
abusing  whom  they  find  consolation    for  their  woes  and  partially  re- 
cover their  cheerfulness.     Presently,  mirabile  dictu,  the  carp  succumbs 
to  temptation,  and  is  landed.       Bearing  his  captive   in  triumph,  the 
fisherman   advances   to  inform   the   youthful   pair  that   the  pond  is 
entirely  at  their  disposal ;   but  they  have  agreed  to   neutralise  their 


MARCH  i,  ,886.]  OUR  MUSICAL-BOX.  147 

griefs  by  combining  them,  and  all  ends  happily.  The  three  parts 
are  admirably  sung  and  played  by  Miss  Findlay,  Mr.  Hildesley,  and 
Mr.  Eric  Lewis.  My  advice  to  my  readers  is  carpe  cyprimtm,  which 
may  be  freely  translated,  "  Go  the  Savoy  and  enjoy  *  The  Carp.'  " 

"  It  is  now  some  twenty  long  years  ago  since  "  Arthur  Sullivan  asked 
Alfred  Tennyson  to  write  for  him  the  words  of  a  "  song-cycle,  German 
fashion."  The  Laureate  complied  with  his  friend's  request,  and  threw 
off  a  dozen  lyrics,  bearing  more  or  less  manifest  relation  to  one  another. 
Four  years  later  this  "  cyklusj"  set  to  music  by  the  composer  of  "  Cox 
and  Box,"  was  published  by  Strahan  and  Co.,  under  the  title  of  "  The 
Window  ;  or,  the  Loves  of  the  Wrens."  On  the  i6th  ult.  seven  of  its 
numbers  were  sung  for  the  first  time  in  public  by  Mr.  Isidore  de  Lara,  'in 
the  course  of  that  gentleman's  first  Spring  Vocal  Recital  at  Steinway 
Hall.  The  songs  are  all  clever,  musicianly,  and  melodious  ;  two  or  three 
of  them  would  have  done  credit  to  Robert  Schumann.  They  were  favour- 
ably received  by  a  "  knowledgable  "  audience,  which  displayed  a  marked 
preference  for  "  Vine,  vine  and  eglantine "  and  "  Light,  so  low  upon 
earth."  It  is  perhaps  superfluous  to  say  that  Mr.  De  Lara  sang  them  to 
perfection,  for  his  interpretations  are  always  distinguished  by  high  intelli- 
gence and  delicate  refinement ;  but  he  happened  to  be  in  unusually  good 
voice,  and  fairly  carried  away  his  hearers.  What  charming  songs  he 
always  hits  upon,  too  !  On  the  occasion  referred  to,  he  introduced  an 
exquisite  little  gem  by  Alary,  "  Colinette,"  and  his  own  two  latest  works, 
"  "Twas  Eve  and  May  "  and  "  All,  my  all  "  (words  respectively  by  Lord 
Lytton  and  Miss  Probyn),  both  of  which  are  full  of  merit  and  will 
certainly  achieve  popularity.  Another  novelty  of  his  own  composition, 
still  in  MS.,  though  I  see  that  it  is  announced  in  Messrs.  Chappell  and 
Co.'s  list  of  new  publications,  also  made  its  debut  at  the  recital,  and 
proved  a  distinct  success.  Its  name  is  "  Marion,"  and  it  sparkles  with 
bright,  unaffected  gaiety.  Mr.  De  Lara  also  sang — quite  inimitably— two 
of  the  most  beautiful  songs  with  which  I  am  acquainted,  Tosti's  "  Aprile  " 
and  Hervey's  "  Heart  of  my  Heart,"  in  the  latter  of  which  he  earned  a 
rapturous  encore ;  a  canzonet  by  Salvator  Rosa,  two  old  English  ballads, 
Mrs.  Moncrieff  's  graceful  serenade  "  For  Old  Custom's  Sake,"  and  Faure's 
sly  little  chanson  "Le  Joli  Reve,"  with  which,  as  he  has  often  done 
before,  he  made  a  decided  hit.  A  pleasant  feature  in  this  exceptionally 
meritorious  afternoon  entertainment  was  the  accomplished  pianism  of 
Signor  Albanesi,  who  played  two  clever  compositions  of  his  own  and 
Rubinstein's  tender  Barcarolle  with  excellent  expression  and  high  finish. 
The  hall  was  crowded  ;  everything  went  off  well ;  everybody  was  pleased. 
Bravo,  De  Lara ! 

WM.  BEATTY-KINGSTON. 


148  THE   THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 


©ur 


"ENEMIES." 

A  new  Comedy-Drama,  in  five  acts,  by  Charles  F.  Coghlan,  founded  on  incidents  in  Georges  Ohnet'a 
romance,  "  La  Grande  Marniere."     Produced  at  the  Prince's  Theatre  on  Thursday, 
January  28,  1886. 


Lord  Dunderby  Mr.  H.  KEMBLB 

The  Hon.  Arthur  Blake    ...  Mr.  J.  CARNB 
Sir  Manvers  Glenn,  Bart. ..    Mr.  F.  EVERILL 

Colonel  Anderson  Mr.  J.  R.  CRAUFORD 

Captain  Percival  Glenn    ...  Mr.  J.  G.  GRAHAMB 

Peter  Darvel Mr.  J.FERNANDEZ 

Richard  Darvel  Mr.  COGHLAN 

Mr.  Dornton Mr.  P.  CLARK 

Daft  Willie    Mr.  R.  PATEMAX 

Marsh Mr.  B.  HOLMES 

Owler Mr.  H.  CRISP 

Shaw Mr.  R.  RAIMOND 

A  Yeoman   Mr.  WEATHERSBT 


Sheriff's  Officer Mr.  H.  CHAMBERS 

Head  Waiter Mr.  MACNAMARA 

1st  Waiter Mr.  G.  DORRELL 

2nd  Waiter Mr.  H.  WILSHAW 

Footman Mr.  H.  BRUNEL 

Joe  Heeley Mr.  S.  CAFFREY 

Coot Mr.  F.  SEYMOUR 

Margaret  Glenn  Mrs.  LANGTRY 

Aunt  Anne   Miss  R.  ERSKINE 

Mrs.  Lawler  Miss  BOWERING 

Rose  Heeley Miss  CLITHEROW 

Martha   Miss  A.  HARDINGB 

Jane    Miss  BURTON 


In  dramatising  Georges  Ohnet's  interesting  story,  "  La  Grande 
Marniere,"  Mr.  Coghlan  has  attempted  a  most  difficult  task  ;  novels 
seldom  make  good  plays,  and  this  drama  suffers  from  too  much 
faithfulness  to  the  original.  The  long  exposition,  introducing  secondary 
characters  and  interests,  finds  a  place  fitting  enough  in  the  book,  but 
when,  on  the  stage,  two  acts,  divided  into  five  scenes,  are  devoted  to 
this,  the  dramatic  effect  is  greatly  weakened.  This  mistake  is  emphasised 
by  the  use  of  that  deplorable  modern  invention,  the  tableau  curtain  ;  five 
times  during  the  prologue  is  the  interest  thus  broken  off  and  arrested,  and 
the  drama  proper  only  begins  with  the  third  act.  The  main  story  is  as 
follows: — Peter  Darvel,  a  self-made  man,  tradesman  and  money-lender, 
has  vowed  an  undying  hatred  to  Sir  Manvers  Glenn,  who  in  the  days  of 
their  youth,  robbed  him  of  the  woman  he  loved  and  then  deserted  her. 
Since  then  they  have  both  married  and  become  widowers.  Revenge  has 
been  the  one  thought,  the  one  hope  of  Darvel's  life  ;  it  is  for  this  that  he 
has  toiled  and  schemed  to  become  rich  and  powerful.  He  now  holds  in 
his  hands  a  heavy  mortgage  on  the  Glenn  estate,  for  the  old  half-childish 
Baronet  has,  by  repeated  and  extravagant  expenditure  on  worthless 
inventions,  brought  ruin  upon  his  house.  The  Baronet  has  two  children, 
Percival,  a -not  bad-hearted,  but  violent-tempered  fellow,  hated  by  all  the 
poachers  of  the  neighbourhood,  and  Margaret,  a  noble,  clever  girl,  loving 
to  her  headstrong  brother,  full  of  almost  motherly  tenderness  for  her  weak 
father.  Proud  where  the  honour  of  her  family  is  at  stake,  she  has  been 
the  one  prop  of  the  tottering  house  ;  she  has  secretly  sacrificed  the  money 
left  to  her  by  her  mother  in  order  to  ward  off  ruin,  but  at  last  all  is  at  an 
€nd — the  day  of  reckoning  is  at  hand.  Peter  Darvel  holds  his  enemy  in 
his  cruel  grasp,  and  prepares  to  crush  him  unmercifully.  But  this  is  not 
all :  the  Glenns  are  threatened  in  the  honour  of  their  name,  far  dearer  to 
them  than  wealth  or  position ;  a  village  girl,  daughter  of  a  poacher  who 


MARCH  i,  i886.]  OUR     PLAY-BOX.  149 

has  a  grudge  against  Percival,  and  to  whom  Margaret's  brother  has  shown 
marked  attention,  has  been  strangled  by  a  deaf  and  dumb  idiot,  and  as 
the  handkerchief  found  round  her  neck  is  one  that  had  been  given  to  her 
by  Percival,  he  is  arrested  on  charge  of  murder.  Who  is  to  rescue  th  em 
from  this  desperate  situation?  Darvel  has  one  son,  Richard,  who  has 
always  refused  to  associate  himself  with  his  father's  schemes  of  vengeance  ; 
an  eminent  barrister,  he  has  been  away  for  some  years  in  America,  and 
has  amassed  a  fortune,  which  makes  him  independent  of  his  father. 
On  his  return  to  his  native  provincial  town,  he  has  accidentally  met 
Margaret,  and  his  heart  has  gone  out  to  her ;  he  loves  her  with  all  the 
intensity  of  a  generous  nature,  who  has  found  no  responding  feeling  in 
his  home,  and  who  knows  his  love  is  hopeless.  And  Margaret,  though 
her  pride  refuses  to  acknowledge  it,  she  too  loves  this  man  whom  she 
would  wish  to  hate.  Yet,  for  her  father's,  for  her  brother's  sake,  however 
painful  the  effort,  she  will  humble  herself  to  him,  and  she  implores  him 
to  influence  his  father  to  spare  them.  To  promise  this  is  beyond 
Richard's  power,  but  he  vows  to  save  them,  and  accomplishes  this  by 
paying  off  the  mortgage  himself,  and  by  defending  Percival  at  the  trial 
and  proving  his  innocence.  For  this  he  is  discarded  by  his  father,  but 
an  ultimate  reconciliation  takes  place.  Margaret,  love  triumphing  at  last 
over  both  pride  and  hate,  consents  to  become  Richard's  wife,  and  the 
old  enemies  are  made  friends. 

Such  is  the  story ;  one  calculated  to  enlist  the  sympathy  of  an 
audience,  and  powerful  enough  to  be  dramatically  effective  if  Mr.  Coghlan 
had  been  bold  enough  in  treatment  and  not  wasted  so  much  time  over  the 
earlier  scenes  of  the  book.  First  he  introduces  us  to  Darvel  in  his  office, 
where  he  makes  him  relate  to  his  son  the  history  of  his  hate ;  next  he 
gives  us  the  first  meeting  of  Margaret  and  Richard  on  the  moor  (an 
admirable  stage  picture).  Unconscious  of  each  other's  identity,  they 
exchange  a  few  words,  an  irresistible  feeling  of  sympathy  seems  to  draw 
them  together ;  he  lingers  by  her  side,  and  she  does  not  wish  him  gone, 
but  on  learning  his  name  her  pleasant  manner  suddenly  changes  to  the 
deepest  scorn.  To  my  mind,  this  scene  would  be  more  effective  if,  as  in 
the  novel,  it  came  first ;  it  would  be  all  the  better  if  the  spectators  became 
interested  in  this  dawn  of  love  before  knowing  of  the  feud  between  the 
families.  Darvel's  story  might  be  told  here  (there  is  no  special  reason 
why  father  and  son  should  not  meet  on  the  moor),  and  it  would  doubly 
jar  on  Richard's  feelings  when  he  was  still  entranced  by  Margaret's  beauty 
and  charm,  and  was  smarting  under  the  thought  that  his  father's  persecu- 
tion of  the  Glenns  had  made  him  an  object  of  abhorrence  to  her.  The 
scenes  of  the  subordinate  characters  in  this  act  would  gain  by  compressing. 
The  second  act  might,  I  think,  be  cut  out  altogether.  Admirably  staged 
as  are  these  three  scenes,  they  are  far  too  long.  Percival's  insult  to 
Richard  in  no  way  helps  the  story,  and  Rose's  murder  might  as  well  be 
simply  related  in  the  third  act.  In  this,  at  last,  the  action  is  started  ;  it 
moves  swiftly,  and  consequently  the  acting  is  far  more  effective.  Mrs. 
Langtry  has  little  to  do  up  to  this  time,  but  here  she  fairly  surprises  us 
by  the  dramatic  power  she  displays.  Margaret  Glenn  is  her  first  original 

NEW   SERIES. — VOL.   VII.  M 


150  THE  THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 

character,  and  undoubtedly  her  best  achievement.  In  the  earlier  part  of 
this  act,  she  does  not  sufficiently  abandon  herself  to  the  situation,  and 
her  tone  is  somewhat  unreal ;  but  as  the  events  press  on  she  becomes 
more  earnest.  After  her  brother's  arrest,  when  Darvel  comes  to  take 
possession  of  his  enemy's  house  and  insults  him,  when  Margaret,  half  mad 
with  grief  and  wrath — for  she  had  hoped  to  keep  her  father  in  ignorance  of 
the  shame  and  sorrow  about  to  fall  on  them — when,  I  say,  she  impulsively 
strikes  Darvel  to  stop  his  words,  the  actress  here  shows  an  intensity  that 
deserves  the  highest  praise.  The  fourth  act  is  the  best  of  all ;  it  contains 
the  two  greatest  scenes  of  the  play,  and  there  is  not  a  word  that  is  out  of 
its  place,  or  that  one  could  wish  cut  out.  It  is  here  that  Margaret  makes 
the  appeal  to  her  lover's  generosity  ;  how  deeply  moving  it  is  !  The  girl 
terribly  anxious  to  win  him  to  her  cause,  and  yet  in  her  pride  fearing  to 
show  how  she  is  drawn  towards  him.  How  bitterly  her  words  affect  him 
v.-hen  she  offers  to  give  up  all  that  is  left  to  them  to  his  father  if  he  will 
only  save  her  brother:  and  when  she  holds  out  her  hand  to  him  in 
repentance  for  having  wounded  him,  and  he  vows  to  dedicate  himself  to 
her  service — how  well  this  is  interpreted  by  Mrs.  Langtry  and  Mr.  Coghlan ! 
One  fault  only  I  can  find  in  her  rendering  of  this  scene — there  is  not 
enough  of  the  under-current  of  tenderness.  This  is  followed  by  the 
moral  duel  between  father  and  son,  ending  by  Darvel  swearing  that  he 
will  carry  out  his  revenge  on  his  enemies  to  the  bitter  end,  and  Richard 
making  a  vow  that  he  will  save  them.  Mr.  Coghlan  and  Mr.  Fernandez 
are  admirable  in  this  most  powerful  scene.  To  Mr.  Fernandez  falls  the 
most  difficult  character  in  the  drama,  and  his  impersonation  is  most 
artistic,  finished,  and  natural.  The  last  act,  like  most  final  acts,  unfor- 
tunately, is  not  quite  so  good ;  it  is  weaker,  and  Margaret's  conversation 
with  her  brother  is  rather  frivolous  for  one  who  has  been  so  tried.  We 
lose  the  charming  scene  of  the  novel  where  Margaret,  hearing  that  Richard 
is  about  to  leave  the  country,  too  proud  to  ask  her  hand  in  return  for  his 
devotion,  seeks  him  and  asks  him  to  stay  for  her  sake  ;  but  this  would 
have  necessitated  another  tableau.  The  equivalent  scene  is  satisfactory 
enough,  though  by  no  means  so  moving  ;  and  as  Mr.  Coghlan  chose  to 
reconcile  the  enemies,  he  could  not  have  done  it  better  than  in  the  way 
selected  by  himself.  The  minor  characters  are  well  sustained  ;  Miss 
Clara  Clitherow  shows  much  promise,  and  Miss  Robertha  Erskine  and 
Miss  Bowering  are  very  good.  An  especial  word  of  praise  must  be  given 
to  Mr.  J.  G.  Grahame  for  his  manly,  easy,  and  natural  impersonation  of 
Percival,  and  in  a  different  style  to  the  capital  bit  of  character  acting  of 
Mr.  Frank  Seymour,  and  the  part  of  the  mute,  a  dangerous  one,  is  in  very 
safe  hands  with  such  an  artiste  as  Mr.  R.  Pateman.  The  scenery  and 
stage-management  are  excellent.  And,  despite  its  many  faults,  there  is 
success  in  the  drama  if  Mr.  Coghlan  has  the  courage  to  use  the  pruning 
knife  freely ;  we  want  more  of  Margaret  and  Richard,  and  fewer 
tableaux. 

MARIE  DE   MENSIAUX. 


MARCH  i,  1886.!  OUR   PLA  Y-BOX. 


"  ANTOINET  ri<:     RIGAUD." 

Anew  comedy,  in  three  acts,  written  by  RAYMOND  DKSI..VNDKS,  tnm-Uted  l>v  KRNK.ST  WARREN. 
Produced  at  the  St.  James's  'i'heatre  on  Saturday,  Februun   l:;. 

General  dePnSfowl Mr.  HAI:K.  !  Corporal  Pierre       Mr.  R.  CATIH  v.:r. 

Ki-aud ICf.  BAASBS.  ;Jean     Mr.    Dl  VlRVKY. 


Henri  de  Tourvel 
Paul Sannoy 

Bernardet   

Mons.  de  Koehard 


Mr.  KKXDAI,.  Antoinette  Itigaud  ...     '.'.'.     Mrs.  Kl 

Mr.  llKKxsitr  WAKIM;.     IC&rie  de  Prefond    Mi->  LI.MI\  [>{• 

Mr.    llKNDitiK.  Midaine  Ik-rnurdut Miss  \\  , 


Mr.  PAGET.  lame  Rut-hard     ..'.     '.'.'.     '.Mi-  AN  NIK  K 

Although  produced  at  the  Comedie  Franchise  on  September  30, 
1885,  "  Antoinette  Rigaud  "  made  very  little  stir  in  Paris.       Written 
by  Deslandes,  a  popular  man,  a  well-known  dramatist,  and  now  the 
manager  of  the  Vaudeville  Theatre,  it  was  generally  thought  that  the 
play,  one  of  mere  action,  was  out  of  place  at   the  house  of  Molicro, 
where,  as  a  rule,  the  subscribers  are  treated  to  works  of  thought   and 
genius.     The  mere  story-teller  for  the  stage  has  hitherto  had  no  place 
at  the  Theatre  Frangais.      And  there  is,  after  all,  little  in  Antoinette 
Rigaud  save  the  clever   arrangement  of  old  dramatic   material,    the 
exciting  recital  of  a  well-worn  stage  story.    The  veterans  of  Moliere's 
house  shirked  the  new  play.   Got,  Delaunay,  and  Mounet  Sully  would 
have  nothing  to  do  with  it.       Coquelin  was  not  in  the  cast.       Neither 
Blanche  Pierson  or  Bartet  were  asked  to  play  the  heroine,   who  was 
left  to  Madame    Worms  Baretta,  an    actress  of  only  average  merit 
Two  societaires  figured  in  the  cast,  Febvre  and  Worms,  both  excellent 
actors,    and  the    play    succeeded    mainly   through   their   assistance. 
Antoinette  Rigaud  is  a  charming  woman  who  has  a  brother  somewhat 
of  a  prig,  who  is  aide-de-camp  to  an  old  General,  Prefond.     She  has 
married  a  plain  practical  man   mainly  to  relieve  her  brother,  who  is 
not  rich,  of  the  responsibility  of  her  maintenance,  and  having  married 
for  money  and  not  for  love,  the   priggish   brother  cannot   understand 
that   her  heart   is  a   little  sad,   and  that   she    occasionally  sighs  for 
sympathy.    Prigs  of  this  pattern,  who  are  as  inanimate  as  a  jelly  fish, 
never  can  understand  such  a  thing.     But  they  are  often  deceived,  and 
have  their  eyes  opened.       Antoinette   meets  a  young  artist   who  is 
sympathetic  to  her.      She  feels  he  is  a   contrast   to  the   burly,  loud- 
talking  fellow  who  crushes  down  her  finer  susceptibilities,  and  she  is 
attracted  to  him.      There  is  no  harm  in  the  flirtation,    she   desires   to 
be  rid  of  the  consequences  of  it,  but  she  is  agitated  when  she  discovers 
the  young  artist   present  at  the    General's    country     house.       That 
very    evening    she    had    escaped    there    for  a    change   during     her 
husband's     absence     from     town.       It     is     the     old      story.       An- 
toinette    wants     back     her     compromising     love     letters,  and     the 
artist    hesitates  to  part  with    them.       However,  he  relents,   and  is 
foolish  enough  to  take  them  to  Antoinette's  room  when  all  the  house- 
hold have  retired  for  the  night.     Innocently  enough,  he  compromises 
the  woman  for  whom  he  has  a  sincere  respect.      But   this  is  not  all. 
Antoinette  and  her  discarded  lover  are  conversing  together  when  the 
house  is  alarmed  by  an  arrival.     Antoinette's  husband  has  turned  up 

M     2 


152  THE  THE  A  TRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 

in  the  middle  of  the  night.  It  is  extremely  inconvenient,  but  husbands 
insist  on  coming  back  in  the  night,  particularly  in  plays.  For  the 
artist  there  is  no  escape,  so  he  is  hidden  in  the  wife's  bedroom  while 
her  hungry  husband  discusses  his  supper  and  the  divorce  case  on 
which  he  has  sat  as  a  juror.  A  husband  had  killed  the  wife  who 
deceived  him,  and  he  was  unanimously  acquitted  by  a  jury  of 
husbands.  All  this  terrifies  poor  Antoinette  Rigaud.  She  becomes 
livid  with  fear,  and,  feigning  a  headache,  gets  her  husband  into  his 
dressing-room  whilst  she  smuggles  away  the  artist  into  the  corridor, 
forgetting  in  her  fright  that  for  him  there  is  no  escape,  as  the  wing  in 
which  their  apartments  are  situated  is  locked  off  from  the  rest  of  the 
house.  Only  the  General's  daughter  and  the  Rigauds  sleep  in  this 
wing.  Suddenly  in  rushes  Rigaud  with  the  alarming  announcement 
that  a  man  has  jumped  from  an  adjoining  window.  The  artist  has 
madly  escaped  through  the  bedchamber  of  the  General's  daughter. 
Such  things  do  happen  in  real  life,  for  was  not  there  a  divorce  case 
the  other  day  where  a  sick  nurse,  watching  a  dying  patient,  was 
surprised  by  the  appearance  of  a  man  through  the  window  with  his 
coat  on  his  arm  and  without  his  boots  !  He  was  a  co-respondent 
escaping  from  an  infuriated  husband  by  means  of  the  balcony.  It  is 
a  mistake  to  suppose  that  the  escaping  balcony  is  a  device  solely  and 
wholly  used  by  French  dramatists.  The  scene  of  the  modern 
co-respondent's  escape  was  the  Warwick  Road,  Pimlico,  and  not  only 
did  the  gentleman  escape  through  one  house  but  the  lady  actually 
escaped  through  the  other.  That  was  worthy  of  a  Criterion  farce. 
Who  shall  say  what  suggestions  are  not  given  by  romances  of  the 
Antoinette  Rigaud  order.  Indiscreet  gentlemen  are  always  coming 
to  ladies  bedrooms  at  inopportune  moments  at  the  St.  James's  Theatre. 
Mrs.  Kendal  is  continually  attacked  in  this  unseemly  fashion.  Yester- 
day in  "  Mayfair,"  to-day  in  "  Antoinette  Rigaud." 

The  next  morning  all  conclusively  points  to  Antoinette's  guilt.  The 
locket  she  has  given  to  her  lover  and  denied  to  her  husband  is  found 
in  the  garden,  and,  to  shield  his  sister's  honour,  the  young  officer 
declares  that  he  is  the  culprit,  and  has  outraged  the  confidence  of  the 
old  General.  It  is  a  storm,  however,  in  a  tea  cup,  for  Antoinette 
confesses  the  truth  to  the  General,  and  saves  her  brother's  reputation. 
Her  secret  is  respected,  but  what  her  husband  thinks  about  it  all  we 
are  not  even  distantly  informed. 

The  play  is  admirably  acted  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal,  Mr.  Hare,  Miss 
Linda  Dietz,and  Mr.  Barnes.  ThefineandvividemotionalactingofMrs. 
Kendal,  the  vigour  of  Mr.  Kendal,  the  polish  of  Mr.  Hare,  the  gentle 
art  of  Miss  Dietz,  and  the  fresh,  natural  manner  of  Mr.  Barnes  as  the 
prosy  husband  have  not  been  excelled  in  the  annals  of  one  of  the  best 
comedy  companies  London  has  ever  seen.  Better  acting  cannot  be 
found  at  any  theatre  in  Paris. 


MARCH  i,  1886.]  OUR    PLA  Y-BOX.  I53 


"ENGAGED.'' 

An  original  farcical  corned y,  in  three  acts,  by  W.  S.  GILBBRT. 

Produced  at  the  Haymarket  Theatre,  on,  Wednesday,  October  3,  1877.     Revived  at  the  Court  Theatre, 

on  November  30,  1831.     Again  revived,  at  the  Haymarket  Theatre,  on  Wednesday, 

February  17, 1886. 

HAYMARKET  (1877).  COURT  (1881).  UAYMARKKT  (1886). 

Cheviot  Hill     Mr.  GKOROE  HONKY.       Mr.  HENRY  J.  BYROM.  Mr.  H.  BBERBOHM-TRBB. 


Belvawney 

>Ir.  Symperson 
Anjrus  Maealister 
Major  McGillicuddy 
Belinda  Treherne  .. 

Minnie       

Mrs.  Macfarlane 


Mr.  KYRLB  BELLEW.  Mr.  KYRLE  BBLLEW.  Mr.  MACRICB   BARRYMORK. 

Mr.  H.  HOWE.  Mr.  CLIFFORD  COOPER.  Mr.  MACKINTOSH. 

Mr.  DKWAR.  Mr.  W.  H.  DENNY.  Mr.  CHARLES  BROOKKIRLD. 

Mr.  WKATHBRSBV.  Mr.  GILBERT  TRENT.  Mr.  ULICK  WINTC.K. 

Miss  MARION  TERRY.  Miss  MARION  TERRY.  Mrs.  H.  BEBRBOIIM-TREB. 

Miss  LUCY  BUCKSTONB.  Miss  CARLOTTA  ADDISON.  Mi.ss  AUGUSTA  WILTON. 

Miss  EMILY  THORNE.  Miss  EMILY  TIIORNR.  Mrs.  E.  H.  BROOKE. 


>I :l,. -.rjL.      Miss  JULIA  STEWART.      Miss  ADBLA  MEASOR.  Mm  Ross  NORRBYS. 

il'arker       Miss  JULIA  ROSELLE.      Miss  L.  MEREDITH.  Miss  RUSSELL  HUDDART, 

The  revival  of  "  Engaged ''  at  the  Haymarket,  at  which  theatre  it 
first  appeared,  will  surely  be  welcomed  by  all  who  care  for  a  smart, 
witty,  and,  what  is  far  more  rare,  a  humorous  farcical  comedy. 
Doubtless  Mr.  Gilbert's  play  will  disappoint  those  people  who  like 
the  salacious  impossibilities  of  the  adaptations  from  the  French, 
which  have  found  so  much  favour  with  the  public  in  recent  years ; 
but  one  may  not  be  without  hope  that  there  are  playgoers  who  care 
to  see  an  amusing  comedy  to  which  they  can  take  their  children 
without  fear  of  contamination,  and  whose  tastes  lead  them  to  prefer 
epigram  before  dirt.  The  taste  for  Mr.  Gilbert's  stage-work  may  be 
compared  to  that  for  olives  or  caviare  ;  it  must  be  innate  in  the 
hearer,  for  the  very  simple  reason  that  the  said  work  is  wholly 
original,  and,  to  carry  out  the  gastronomic  simile,  it  may  be  added  that 
it  has  a  perfectly  distinctive  flavour  of  its  own.  And  of  all  Mr. 
Gilbert's  works,  "  Engaged  "  is  the  most  Gilbertian.  To  hear  it  or  to 
read  it  is  like  beginning  your  study  of  Carlyle  with  "  Sartor  Resartus," 
and  if  you  can  see  the  humour  and  appreciate  the  topsy-turveydom 
to  which  you  are  introduced,  you  may  consider  yourself  free,  so  to 
speak,  of  Mr.  Gilbert's  intellectual  "  Palace  of  Truth"  for  evermore. 
I  use  the  words  "  Palace  of  Truth  "  advisedly,  for  assuredly  no  writer 
has  ever  laid  bare  with  a  keener  scalpel  the  sham  and  pretension  that 
underlies  the  society  of  to-day.  That  cynicism  is  the  keynote  of 
<"  Engaged."  Some  people  do  not  see  it;  they  prefer  to  find  "  larky" 
"wives  waiting  for  the  return  of  peccant  husbands,  while  attendant 
iovers  hover  round  them,  and  parody  the  revelations  of  the  divorce 
court.  Non  olet,  &c.,  and  such  pieces  pay ;  but,  without  any  of  the 
affectation  of  a  purist,  one  may  surely  turn  to  Mr.  Gilbert's  brilliant 
play  and  be  thankful  that  it  is  clean. 

"Engaged"  has  been  represented  at  the  Haymarket,  the  Court, 
and  in  the  provinces ;  but  I  may  be  allowed  to  say  [ditto  to  Mr. 
Clement  Scott  as  to  the  way  in  which  the  principal  character,  Cheviot 
Hill,  has  been  enacted.  Mr.  Honey,  who  first  appeared  in  the  part, 
was  grotesque  and  fairly  amusing,  but  he  had  evidently  formed  no 
definite  idea  of  it ;  while  Mr.  Byron,  who  appeared  in  the  last  London 
revival,  was  equally  "  at  sea."  The  latest  exponent,  Mr.  Beerbohm- 


1.54  THE    THEATRE.  [.MARCH  i,  1886. 

Tree,  is  an  actor  of  acknowledged  ability,  a  man  who  is  above  all 
things  a  delineator  of  character,  and  high  hopes  were  entertained  of 
his  performance.  In  two  words,  he  failed.  He  was  Beerbohm-Tree, 
and  not  Cheviot  Hill,  and  his  remarkable  powrer  of  self-effacement — 
that  is  to  say,  of  impersonation — seemed  on  this  occasion  to  have 
deserted  him.  The  part  was,  I  believe,  written  for  Mr.  Sothern,  who,  in 
his  best  days,  would  have  played  it  well ;  not  so  well,  however,  as 
Mr.  Charles  Wyndham  could  play  it  now,  should  he  ever  appear  in 
it.  Mr.  Barrymore's  Belvawney  was  fairly  amusing,  but  he  seemed 
afraid,  as  the  phrase  runs,  of  letting  himself  go.  Mr.  Mackintosh  was 
a  humorous  Mr.  Symperson,  and  Mr.  Brookfield  as  clever  as  he  always 
is  as  Angus  Macalister ;  he  might,  however,  in  his  ardour  for  realism, 
have  spared  us  reminiscences  of  "  The  Caledonian  Cremona."  With 
a  vivid  recollection  of  Miss  Marion  Terry  in  the  part,  I  have  nothing 
but  praise  for  Mrs.  Beerbohm-Tree's  Belinda.  She  caught  the  mock- 
heroic  spirit  of  the  part  to  perfection,  and  played  with  a  firmer  touch 
and  more  force  than  she  has  yet  exhibited.  It  was  a  sound  and 
artistic  bit  of  stage  work.  Miss  Augusta  Wilton  was  a  pretty  and 
piquante  Minnie  Symperson  ;  and  Miss  Norreys  looked  the  part  of 
Maggie,  though  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  could  not  understand  a  word  of 
her  Scotch.  She  is  hardly  to  be  blamed,  however,  for — while  I  can. 
boast  of  some  acquaintance  with  Scotsmen  and  their  mode  of  speak- 
ing— the  dialect  of  the  actors  in  the  play,  which  was  supposed  to  be 
Scotch,  was  as  much  like  Dutch  as  genuine  Doric. 

H.  SAVILE  CLARKE. 


"THE     LORD     HARRY." 

A  new  and  original  romantic  play,  in  five  acts,  by  HENRY  ARTHUR  JONES  and  WILSON  BARRETT. 
Produced  at  the  Princess's  Theatre  on  Thursday,  February  18,  1886. 


The  Lord  Harry  Bendish    Mr.  WILSON  BARRETT. 


Esther  Breane 
Captain  Ezra  Promise 
Colonel  David  Breane 

Mike  Seccombe 

Tribulation  Tyzack... 

GileadTysack 

Captain  Christian  Rust.. 
Master  Mansty 


MiSS  EAbTLAKE. 

Mr.  E.  S.  WILLARD. 
Mr.  J.  H.  CLYNDS. 
Mr.  CHARLES  HUDSON. 
Mr.  GEORGE  BARRETT. 
Mr.  H.  BERNAGB. 
Mr.  W.  A.  ELLIOTT. 
Mr.  P.  BARRINGTON. 


Shekeniah  Pank Mr.  CHARLES  COOTE. 

Sergeant  Wilkins Mr.  H.  DE  SOLLA. 

Sir  Humphrey  Hinton        .    Mr.  C.  FULTON. 


n  ph 
Job 


ColonelJohn  Wingrove    ...  Mr.  H.  EVANS. 

Captain  Valentine  Damerel  Mr.  S.  CARSON. 

Sentry    Mr.  FIELD. 

Dorothy Miss  LOTTIE  VENNE. 

Dame  Tillett  .  Mrs.  F.  HUNTLEY. 


"  The  Lord  Harry  "  comes  as  a  disappointment  to  those  who  are  ac- 
quainted with  the  previous  work,  either  in  collaboration  or  otherwise,  of 
Mr.  Henry  Arthur  Jones.  "  The  Silver  King  "  is  a  capital  play  of  its  kind, 
admirably  constructed,  and  based  upon  a  novel  and  original  foundation. 
"  Saints  and  Sinners  "  tells  a  touching  story,  and  contains  several  graphic 
sketches  of  character.  Again,  "  Hoodman  Blind  "  is  a  powerful,  absorbing- 
melodrama.  On  the  other  hand,  "  The  Lord  Harry  "  contains  little  that 
calls  for  commendation.  Its  story  is  thin  to  the  extreme,  and  could  be 
told  in  a  breath,  while  the  action,  which  hardly  ever  carries  the  spectator 
out  of  himself,  practically  finishes  in  the  third  of  the  five  acts,  leaving 
scene  after  scene,  of  little  relevancy,  to  be  presented.  It  may  be  as  well 
to  relate  the  exact  manner  in  which  the  story  of  the  love  of  a  Royalist  for 
a  Puritan  maiden  is  presented.  The  first  scene  depicts  the  Royalist  camp 
near  Zoyland  Castle,  on  the  Dorsetshire  coast.  The  sources  of  the 


MARCH  i,  1886.  OUR  PLA  Y-BOX.  T55 

besiegers  are  nearly  exhausted,  and  for  this  reason  the  Royalists  fear  that 
they  must  withdraw  unless  the  besiegers  are  in  worse  plight  than  them- 
selves.    How  is  the  necessary  knowledge  to  be   obtained  ?     Lord  Harry 
Bendish,  a  dare-devil  favourite,  determines  to  obtain  it,  so  he  disguises 
himself  as  a  Puritan,  and  thus  gets  admission  to  Zoyland  Castle.  Loyalty 
to  his  cause  is  not  the  only  motive  which  induces  Lord  Harry  to  thus  risk 
his  life,  for  he  is  in  love  with  Esther  Breane,  the  fair  daughter  of  the  com- 
mander of  the  besieged  town.     He  enters  the  castle  successfully,  the  first 
act  terminating  with  his  meeting  with  Esther.  What  is  to  follow  is  patent 
to  those  not  gifted  with  much  insight.     The  Lord  Hany  is   recogni^-d, 
and  condemned  to  death,  and  he  is  saved  from  this  punishment  by  Ksth'-r 
Breane,  who  bribes  the  jailor,  provides  Lord  Harry  with  a  stout  bar  of 
iron,  with  which  he  shatters  the  bars  of  his  cell  window  through  which  he 
escapes,  thanks  to  a  rope-ladder,  also   provided  by  Esther.     Thus  ends 
Act  2.     The  play  practically  terminates  in  the  next  act.    The  Lord  Harry 
is  decoyed  into  visiting  Esther  late  at  night,  the  town  is   entered  by  the 
Royalist  army,  and  in  a  gratuitous  scene  of  noise,  gunpowder,  and  smoke, 
Esther  and  her  lover  and  father  are  seen — by  those  of  quick  eye — making 
good  their  escape.     The  remainder  of  the  play  is  occupied  by  the  adven- 
tures of  the  fugitives.     They  are  seen  on  the  roof  of  a  flooded  cottage, 
where  they  are  attacked  by  enemies  who    fire   o'i  them  with   unloaded 
muskets,  and  then  land  and  chase  them  round  the  chimney  top,  the  trio  once 
more  escaping  in  the  boat  of  their  enemies,  who  are  left    checkmated  on 
the  roof  of  the  cottage.     Adventures  of  a  somewhat  similar  nature  occur 
in  the  last  act,  the  Lord  Harry  and  Esther  once  more  escaping,  and  so 
the  play  might  go  on  for  ever,  but  for  the   limits  of  time   which  require 
that  a  theatrical  manager  must  not  detain  his  audience  long  after  eleven 
at  night.     It  will  thus  be  seen  that  "  The  Lord  Harry  ''  possesses  no  great 
originality  of  plot,  no  stirring  situation,  and  but  little  action.     Mr.  Wilson 
Barrett  acts  the  hero  with  wonderful  energy,  and  looks  particularly  well 
in  his  new  part,  and  Miss  Eastlake  plays  the  Puritan  maiden  with   great 
tenderness.     But,  truth  to  tell,  this  is  not  a  good  acting  play,  and  such 
able  artists  as  Mr.  E.  S.  Willard,  Mr.  J.  H.  Clynds,  Mr.   George   Barrett, 
and  Miss    Lottie   Venne  have   parts    which    do    not   afford   them    any 
opportunity  for  distinction. 


iS  j  THE  THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 


©ur 


I  return  to  Mr.  John  Coleman's  "  Memoirs  of  Samuel  Phelps,"  which 
have  amused  me  vastly.  They  will  not  alter  my  opinion  in  the  least 
concerning  the  sterling  stuff  that  was  contained  in  the  mind  and  body  of 
that  fine,  rugged  old  actor,  the  Sir  Pertinax,  the  Sir  Peter,  the  Richelieu, 
the  Cardinal  Wolsey,  the  Job  Thornbury,  the  Bottom,  whom  we  all  knew 
in  our  boyhood  days ;  but  the  biographer  of  Samuel  Phelps,  unintention- 
ally, no  doubt,  gives  me  the  strangest  impression  of  a  man  who  was  once 
a  childhood's  idol.  I  first  saw  Shakespeare — it  was  the  play  of 
"  Hamlet" — in  the  pit  of  Sadlers  Wells,  for  the  playhouse  presided 
over  by  Phelps  bordered  on  my  father's  parish,  situated  in  the  New 
North  Road,  Hoxton.  Surely  no  one  has  championed  his  profession 
more  valiantly  than  Mr.  John  Coleman  ;  whenever  anyone  dared  to 
attack  it  he  has  drawn  his  sword.  Did  anyone  dare  to  say  an 
actor  ever  swore  a  round  oath,  or  used  brutal  language  either  on  the  stage 
or  in  private,  he  would  run  the  risk  of  receiving  a  challenge  from  the 
excellent  John  Coleman.  If  anyone  at  any  time  ventured  to  assert  that 
actors  of  the  past  were  selfish,  inconsiderate,  vain,  caring  for  themselves 
and  for  no  human  being  besides,  placing  themselves  first  and  foremost 
with  utter  disregard  to  the  success  of  the  play,  disinclined  to  help  any 
manager  or  author  for  the  sake  of  art  and  art  alone,  who  would  have 
protested  more  than  the  valiant  Mr.  John  Coleman  ?  And  yet,  when  he  tells 
us  about  Sam  Phelps,  he  strives  to  interest  us  in  the  great  ones  of 
another  era  by  the  strangest  anecdotes  couched  in  the  strongest  language. 
Are  these  fair  specimens  of  the  art-feeling  of  the  revered  Samuel  Phelps 
and  the  idolised  William  Charles  Macready  ?  I  trust  not,  but  they  stand 
on  record  and  are  published  by  one  who  knew  him  and  cherishes  his 
memory. 

Pheips,  actor-like,  speaks  with  unaccountable  bitterness  about  "bad 
parts  "  :  — 

"  The  rest,  the  home  surroundings,  and  the  permanent  income  made 
me  swallow  some  bitter  pills  during  my  first  season,  but  when  at  the 
opening  of  the  second  season  I  found  Vandenhoff  engaged  to  open  in 
Coriolanus,  and  myself  cast  Tullus  Aufidius,  I  felt  myself  wronged.  I 
remonstrated.  As  a  sweetener  I  got  Leonatus  Posthumus  for  my  second 
part. 

"A  week  afterwards,  'Mac'  took  me  out  of  Othello,  which  he  played 
himself,  with  Vandenhoff  for  lago.  A  week  later  up  went  '  The  Tempest,' 
and  I  found  myself  cast  for  that  dismal  duffer,  Antonio.  Then  came  that 
bundle  of  dry  bones,  Cato  (Isn't  it  astonishing  that  such  turgid  stuff  should 


MARCH  i,  1886.]  OUR    OMNIBUS-BOX.  157 

ever  have  had  such  a  vogue  ?),  and  I  was  condemned  to  lift  up  Vanden- 
hoff's  tail  in  Marcus. 

"All  this  I  bore  as  well  as  I  could,  till  I  actually  found  mvself  taken 
out  of  Jaffier  (my  opening  part  in  the  preceding  season)  and  little  Klton 
put  over  my  head.  My  discontent  then  became  unbearable.  At  this  very 
moment  I  got  an  offer  to  star  in  Manchester  and  Liverpool,  and  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  accept  it." 

Subsequently  Phelps  says  of  Macready,  his  friend  and  patron : 
"I  then  acted  Othello  with  the  same  degree  of  success.  "Venice 
Preserved '  was  so  highly  spoken  of  and  enquired  for  that  he  was 
obliged  to  do  it  a  second  time,but  would  not  play  in  the  piece  himself.  So 
weak  a  man  is  he  that  he  cannot  bear  the  idea  of  sharing  the  honour  of 
a  night  with  anyone." 

This  "weak  man"  Macready  was  the  very  man  who  lent  Phelps  the 
sum  of  ^"450  without  requiring  any  security  whatever.  Phelps  was  hardly 
grateful,  for  he  had  scarcely  acknowledged  this  godsend,  as  he  calls  it, 
when  he  wrote  as  follows  of  the  good  fellow  who  had  helped  him  in  his 
distress : 

"  The  only  thing  to  accentuate  the  altered  relations  between  Macready 
and  myself  was  that  he  became  a  little  less  grim  and  a  little  more  con- 
siderate than  usual.  For  all  that,  I  had  some  bitter,  bad  parts  to 
play." 

Phelps  speaks  again  : 

"  Conspicuous  among  the  great  events  of  the  season  was  the  production 
of  'Richelieu,'  in  which  I  had  another  bitter,  bad  part  to  play  of  a  few 
lines,  thai  old  thief,  Joseph. 

"  At  length  we  reached  the  last  scene.  You  remember  that  beast  of  a 
Joseph  has  only  one  good  line,  a  line  which  usually  elicits  a  great  round  of 
applause,  and  I  flattered  myself  I  should  certainly  have  them  there." 
(Phelps  again  speaks.)  "Three  nights  afterwards  I  was  cast  for  that 
detestable  Beauseant  in  '  The  Lady  of  Lyons.' 

"Thus  bad  begins,  but  worse  remains  behind.  Imagine  my  mortifi- 
cation when  I  found  myself  in  the  very  theatre  where  I  had  opened  in 
Shylock,  where  I  had  made  my  mark  and  been  '  starred '  as  Hamlet  and 
Richard — condemned  repeatedly  to  Antonio— the  Ghost  and  Henry  VI. 
to  Macready  and  Kean.  'Tis  true  I  played  Jacques  and  Master  Walter 
with  Ellen  Tree  ;  but  they  don't  count  for  much,  and  my  original  part  was 
a  very  bad  one — Onslow  in  Bulwer  Lytton's  play,  'The  Sea  Captain.' 

"  Charles  Mathews  jibbed  at  Fag,  but  he  did  him  for  all  that,  and  did 
him  a  deuced  sight  better  than  he  could  have  done  Jack  Absolute  ;  but 
he  kicked  awfully  at  Roderigo,  but  he  had  to  do  him,  and  a  precious  mess 
he  made  of  the  part." 

"  I  don't  think  Anderson  swallowed  Octavius  Caesar  with  avidity,  and  I 
am  sure  Helen  Faucit  didn't  gush  at  Portia  (Brutus  Portia),  nor  was  Mrs. 
Warner  particularly  entete  with  the  Queen  of  France,  a  part  of  twenty 
lines  in  '  Henry  the  Fifth.'  In  fact,  we  all  growled,  but  we  all  submitted. 
Vandenhoff  was  chief  growler  in  the  chorus,  Warde  followed  suit  in 
Williams,  Elton  as  Exeter,  Anderson  as  Gower  (a  part  of  thirty  lines), 


158  THE  THE  A  TRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 

and  I  growled  as  loud  as  any  one  as  the  Constable  of  France.  But  our 
discontent  was  the  public  gain,  for  it  was  certainly  a  magnificent  produc- 
tion. We've  none  of  us  been  able  to  touch  it,  or  even  come  within  a 
hundred  miles  of  it  since." 

Macready  sums  up  the  personal  question  in'a  very  curious  and  original 
fashion.  Hear  what  he  says  : — "  He  growled — 

"  '  Are  you  an  ass,  or  do  you  take  me  for  one  ?  Do  you  imagine  that 
after  fighting  all  these  years  I'm  going  to  abdicate  for  the  purpose  of 
putting  you  or  any  other  man  in  my  place  ?  Are  you  aware  of  the  struggle 
I  had  to  hold  my  own  against  Young,  Charles  Kemble,  and  Kean  ?  Of 
the  degradation  1  had  to  encounter  in  being  compelled  to  play  second 
fiddle  to  that  amateur  boy,  Booth,  to  whose  Lear  they  made  me  play 
Edmund — me,  William  Charles  Macready  !  No,  my  dear  fellow,  watch 
.and  wait  your  chance.  It's  sure  to  come  some  time,  perhaps  when  you 
least  expect  it ;  anyhow,  to  cut  and  run  would  look  like  failure  ! ' 

"  «  Cut  and  run,5  said  I ;  *  well— 

'  He  who  runs  away 

May  live  to  fight  another  day.' 

"  '  That's  true,'  rejoined  Mac.,  '  but  he  who  won't  remain  in  the  field  of 
battle  may  change  defeat  to  victory  at  any  moment.  Here  ,  now — come, 
come,  don't  talk  nonsense,  and  we'll  see  if  we  can't  make  matters  a  little 
more  pleasant  for  you.' 

"  So,  after  all,  fortunately  for  myself,  as  it  turned  out  ultimately,  I  con- 
cluded to  remain." 

How  very  small  this  is,  how  extremely  undignified  ! 

It  was  not  until  many  years  later  than  this  when  we  saw  the  Comedie 
Fran9aise  in  London,  an  institution  based  on  a  different  system,  where 
actors  and  actresses  were  content  to  take  the  smallest  characters  for  the  glory 
of  Moliere.  Racine  and  Corneille,  Got  and  Coquelin,  Bressant  and  Delaunay 
did  not  curse  and  swear  and  damn  one  another's  eyes  because  they  were 
occasionally  cast  for  subordinate  characters  in  great  plays.  What  would 
have  been  thought  of  a  French  actor  in  the  house  of  Moliere  who,  when 
asked  to  play  the  Ghost  in  <;  Hamlet"  by  one  William  Shakespeare, 
replied  :  — "  Well,  d — n  your  impudence  !  "  Yet  this  is  what  Mr.  Coleman 
reports  Phelps  did  to  Fechter. 

Mr.  Coleman  commences  his  memoirs  with  an  induction  which  is 
interesting,  but,  I  regret  to  state,  deplorably  inaccurate.  I  have  spent 
the  best  part  of  an  afternoon  in  correcting  the  first  few  pages.  It  is 
gravely  asserted  that  "  The  Secretary,"  by  Sheridan  Knowles,  and  the 
burlesque,  "  Fortunio,"  by  Planche",  were  brought  out  at  Drury  Lane  on 
the  same  night.  "  I  can  remember  though  it  was  yesterday  when  the 
curtain  rose." 

Unfortunately  Mr.  Coleman  is  wrong  in  his  facts. 

"  Fortunio  "was  produced  on  Easter  Monday,  April  17,  1843,  but  was 
preceded  by  "  Macbeth,"  not  by  "The  Secretary"  at  all.  Mr.  Coleman 
could  not  possibly  have  seen  the  new  play  by  Sheridan  Knowles  on  this 
eventful  evening,  for  it  was  not  produced  until  the  zgth  April,  1843.  The 
young  light  comedy  "  Lord,"  played  by  Hudson,  the  Irish  comedian, 


MARCH  ,,  ,886.]  OUR   OMNIBUS-BOX.  I59 

"  whose  name  I  can't  remember,"  was  Lord  Sherbrooke,  since  adopted 
by  Robert  Lowe  when  he  accepted  a  peerage.  Sheridan  Knowles's  plays 
are  printed  with  the  original  casts  attached,  and  published  by  the  Messrs. 
Routledge.  Anyone  can  buy  them  for  a  few  shillings.  According  to 
Mr.  Coleman  "  Miss  Helen  Faucit  and  Mrs.  Warner  were  both  in  the  piece." 
The  published  book  of  plays  says  that  the  only  two  women  in  "  The 
Secretary"  were  played  by  Miss  Helen  Faucit  and  Mrs.  Wigan.  It 
may  be  interesting  to  supply  the  rest  of  the  speech  containing  the 
words,  "A  maid  should  bean  icicle,"  with  which  the  "beautiful  youn.^ 
creature  made  music." 

"  '  If  I  remember  rightly,  it  was  a  poor  play,'  observed  the  tall  and 
stately  lady,  who  had  been  supremely  lovely  in  her  youth. 

"  '  I  thought,'  I  replied,  '  it  was  a  noble  one,  for  it  revealed  tome  anew 
world — a  world  of  poetry  and  beauty.'  " 

The  "  noble  play  "  ran  for  two  nights.     However,  now  for  the  icicle  : — 

"  All's  wrong  !     A  maid  should  be  an  icicle, 
Yielding  but  drop  by  drop — and  then  with  chilling 
Cold  to  the  last.     Melting  not  of  herself 
But  'gainst  her  nature — then  she's  worth  the  thawing. 
Frankness  in  her  is  not  a  virtue,  or 
'Tis  one  that  will  undo  her.    She  should  go 
Without  a  heart !     It  is  her  poverty 
To  have  one ! 

What  sublime  poetry,  and  how  elegantly  the  blank  verse  rings,  does  it 
not  ?  What  a  superb  line — 

"  Frankness  in  her  is  not  a  virtue,  or." 

How  well  they  wrote  poetry  in  the  good  old  days  ;  didn't  they  ? 
"  Yielding  but  drop  by  drop — and  then  with  chilling." 

Hey  day  !  Surely  there  is  a  foot  too  much  in  this  blank  verse  line.  Is 
there  not,  Mr.  Sheridan  Knowles  ?  And  where  is  the  elegance,  where  the 
graceful  rhythm,  where  the  desirable  coesura  in  this  brilliant  example  of 
"  a  world  of  poetry  and  beauty  "  ? 

What  a  line  ! 

"  But  'gainst  her  nature — then  she's  worth  the  thawing." 

Again  a  foot  too  much.  Thank  goodness,  Tennyson  has  written  the 
"  Idylls  of  the  King,"  to  show  us  what  blank  verse  is.  It  is  certainly  not 
dull,  bald  prose,  cut  into  unequal  lengths  after  the  Sheridan  Knowles 
plan. 

But  it  is  to  be  feared  that  the  biographer  of  Samuel  Phelps  has  little 
ear  for  verse.  If  ever  there  was  a  neat  and  elegant  writer  of  lyrics,  it  was 
J.  Robinson  Blanche".  He  would  have  shuddered  had  he  seen  how  he 
was  misquoted  in  connection  with  Fortunio.  Mr.  Coleman  can  remember, 
as  though  it  were  yesterday,  when  the  curtain  rose  on  "]Fortunio,"  and 
Hudson  sang  "  a  parody  "  on  the  well-known  song,  "  In  the  days  that  we 
went  gipsying."  Mr.  Coleman  must  have  been  very  late  that  memorable 
evening,  for  Mr.  Hudson  did  not  sing  the  song  until  the  third  scene,  and 
in  the  middle  of  it. 


160  THE  THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 

What  he  did  not  do  was  to  sing  words  that  Planche*   never  wrote,  or 
could  have  written.     The  idea  of  Planche  ever  committing  himself  to — 

' '  In  the  days  that  we  got  tipsy  in — a  long  time  ago, 
We  drank  champagne  from  glasses  long, 
And  hock  from  glasses  green, 
In  the  days  that  we  got  tipsy  in — a  long  time  ago." 

This  is  what  Planche  wrote  (vide  his  published  plays — subscriber's 
copy)  :— 

Oh  !  the  days  that  we  got  tipsy  in— a  long  time  ago, 
Were  certainly  the  j oiliest  a  man  could  ever  know. 

We  drank  champagne  from  glasses  long,  and  hock  from  goblets  green, 

And  nothing  like  a  cup  of  tea  was  ever  to  be  seen  ; 
All  night  we  passed  the  wine,  nor  dreamed  of  Hyson  or  Pekoe, 
In  the  days  that  we  got  tipsy  in  a  long  time  ago. 

-  The  biographer  can  remember  "  Priscilla  Horton  as  Fortunio  filling 
the  stage  with  sunshine  whenever  she  appeared."  She  was  the  legitimate 
successor  of  Madame  Vestris,  and  afterwards  became  Mrs.  German  Reed. 
41  I  can  hear  her  magnificent  voice  now  as  she  sang  :— 

"  My  father,  dear,  oh  !  rest  thee  here 
While  I  do  put  a  light  silk  pair  of  tight 
Et  ceteras  on  below. 

Oh  !  if  I  look  but  half  as  well  in  male  attire 
As  he  I  saw  the  other  night  upon  the  wire, 
Oh  !  what  an  angel  I  should  be." 

Oh,  dear  no  !    Mr.  Planche  wrote  nothing  of  the  kind.     His  versification 
was  neatness  itself.     Listen  to  this  : — 

Now  rest  thee  here, 

My  father  dear. 
Hush  !  hush  !  for  up  I  go 

To  put  a  light 

Silk  pair  of  tight 
Et  ceteras  on  below. 
Oh  !  if  I  look  in  male  attire 

But  half  as  well  as  he 
I  saw  one  night  dance  on  the  wire, 

What  an  angel  I  should  be. 

Does  anyone  remember,  I  wonder,  what  the  Sunday  Times  thought  of 
Macready  in  1843,  at  the  close  of  a  celebrated  season : — 

That  Mr.  Macready's  speculation  has  been  unprofitable  has  been  the  natural 
result  of  his  own  incapacity  and  of  his  obstinate  adherence  to  his  own  opinions.  He 
has  those  about  him  who  could  enlighten  him  on  subjects  of  which  he  is  profoundly 
ignorant,  but  they  either  will  not  or  dare  not.  He  has  followed  the  dictates  of  his 
own  judgment ;  he  has  had  not  only  his  own  way,  but  his  own  way  of  having  it,  and 
is,  in  this  merry  month  of  June  (1843),  the  oldest  spoiled  child  breathing.  That  he 
has  lost  his  money  grieves,  but  does  not  surprise  us.  A  manager,  to  be  successful, 
should  act  but  little :  it  is  his  province  to  profit  by  the  acting  of  others.  In  the 
selection  of  dramas  Mr.  Macready  looked  only  to  himself;  the  play  that  could  not 
become  a  medium  for  his  histrionic  displays  was  no  play  for  him.  Putting  his 
enormous  egotism  aside,  Mr.  Macready  is  physically  and  mentally  unfitted  for  a 
theatre  ;  his  nervous  irritability  and  his  infirmity  of  temper  render  him  incapable  of 
becoming  a  successful  manager.  It  is  rumoured  that  he  proceeds  to  America.  He 


MARCH  i,  i886.]  OUR   OMNIBUS-BOX.  i6l 

visited  the  land  of  Jonathan  some  years  since,  and  was  successful  ;  he  his  now 
achieved  a  more  glorious  name,  and  will,  no  doubt,  be  warmly  welcomed.  If  he  can 
manage  to  lay  in  a  stock  of  amenity  amid  his  other  ship  stores,  it  may  prova  service- 
able, not  only  whilst  on  board,  but  when  he  reaches  the  Columbian  shore.  Her 
Majesty  visits  Drury  on  Monday,  and  it  is  probable  that  the  season  may  be 
prolonged  for  some  few  nights. 

In  this  memorable  season  of  the  "  palmy  days  "  was  produced  VVestlancl 
Marston's  "  Patrician's  Daughter,"  which  ran  for  seven  nights  ;  a  play 
called  "  Athelwold,"  produced  on  the  occasion  of  Helen  Faucit's  benefit, 
which  ran  two  nights  ;  Robert  Browning's  "  Blot  on  the  'Scutcheon," 
which  ran  for  three  nights,  produced  simultaneously  with  the  farce 
called  "  The  Thumping  Legacy,"  which  was  an  enormous  success. 


I  gladly  insert  the  following  letter  : — 

"  SIR, — You  have  done  me  neither  more  nor  less  than  simple  justice  by 
stating  in  your  review  of  my  Phelps  book  that 'if  anything  has  left  a 
sting  it  is  by  accident.' 

"  You  have,  however,  arrived  at  an  erroneous  impression  as  to  my  appre- 
ciation of  Charles  Fechter. 

"I  never  represented  him  to  be  'a bumptious  blockhead.'  I  have  never 
insinuated,  far  less  asserted,  that  his  ability  could  be  called  in  question 
'  because  he  had  dared  to  play  Hamlet.'  I  travelled  four  hundred  miles 
to  see  his  first  performance  of  the  noble  Dane,  and  was  impressed  and 
delighted.  Prior  to  that  I  came  from  Edinburgh  to  London  to  see  his 
first  night  of  Ruy  Bias,  a  divine  performance,  but  not  one  whit  better 
than  Caroline  Heath's  Isabella  de  Neubourg  and  Walter  Lacey's  Don 
Salluste. 

*'  I  think  I  appreciated  this  admirable  work  even  more  highly  when  I 
saw  Sara  Bernhardt  and  her  troop  of  barn-door  fowl  attempt  this  play 
two  years  ago.  I  never  saw  Fechter  do  anything  in  my  life,  even  when  I 
occasionally  thought  his  judgment  at  fault  (as  in  Othello),  which  did  not 
interest  and  delight  me. 

"  My  account  of  his  last  performance  of  Hamlet  at  the  Lyceum  merely 
records  an  historical  fact  of  which  I  was  an  eye-witness,  and  in  no  way 
detracts  from  my  estimation  of  this  great  actor's  genius,  or  my  affectionate 
regard  for  his  memory — a  regard  enhanced  by  years  of  friendly  intimacy 
— and  by  the  regret  I  must  ever  feel  for  his  untimely  death. 

"  Yours  faithfully, 

"  JOHN  COLEMAN. 
"Junior  Garrick  Club, 
"February  i8th,  1886." 


11  Shakespearean  Scenes  and  Characters"  is  the  title  of  a  sumptuous 
volume,  the  text  of  which  has  been  written  by  Austin  Brereton,  to  be 
published  next  month  by  Messrs.  Cassell.  The  scope  of  the  volume 
may  be  gathered  from  an  extract  from  the  preface.  "  My  object," 
says  Mr.  Breretor,  "  in  writing  the  text  which  accompanies  the  en- 
gravings here  illustrating  twenty-nine  of  Shakespeare's  plays  has 


1 62  THE    THEATRE. 


[MARCH  i,  1886. 


been  to  give,  in  a  concise  form,  an  account  of  the  stage-history  of 
each  play,  together  with  a  note  of  the  most  faniDus  representatives  of 
the  principal  parts  in  these  plays.  The  history  of  the  connection  of 
these  plays  with  the  stage,  and  of  the  chief  actors  in  them,  has 
accordingly  been  related  for  a  period  extending  over  two  centuries  ; 
from  the  time,  in  short,  of  Betterton's  Hamlet  to  that  of  the  last 
Shakespearean  revival  at  the  Lyceum  under  the  management  of 
Henry  Irving.  An  attempt  has  also  been  made  to  include  in  these 
pages  a  record  of  the  achievements  of  the  greater  American  actors, 
and,  besides,  to  give  a  note  on  the  productions  of  Shakespeare's  works 
in  the  United  States."  The  idea  of  the  book,  it  will  be  seen,  is  at 
least  novel.  The  illustrations  comprise  thirty  steel  plates  and  ten 
wood  engravings,  after  drawings  by  Frank  Dicksee,  A.R.A.,  Solomon 
Hart,  R.A.,  J.  McL.  Ralston,  H.  C.  Selous,  J.  D.  Watson,  Charles 
Green,  Fred.  Barnard,  W.  Ralston,  A.  Hopkins,  Val  Bromley,  A. 
Fredericks,  M.  E.  Edwards,  and  others.  The  volume,  which  is  dedi- 
cated to  Henry  Irving,  should  prove  unusually  interesting  to  lovers  of 
Shakespeare  and  the  stage. 


Miss  Mary  Rorke,  whose  photograph  as  Lina  Nelson  in  "The 
Harbour  Lights  "  appears  in  this  number  of  THE  THEATRE',  was  born 
in  Westminster.  As  already  related  in  the  pages  of  this  magazine, 
she  entered  the  theatrical  profession,  at  an  early  age,  in  1874,  playinS 
at  the  Crystal  Palace  and  at  the  Croydon  Theatre.  She  then  appeared 
in  a  small  part  in  "  Maids  ot  Honour  "  at  the  Holborn  Theatre,  sub- 
sequently acting  Sophie  Crackthorpe  in  "  The  Wedding  March''  at 
the  Haymarket  Theatre.  She  gained  much  experience  during  a  stay 
of  eight  months  at  the  Prince  of  Wales  Theatre,  Liverpool,  and,  re- 
turning to  London,  she  played  Fanny  Bunter  in  "  New  Men  and  Old 
Acres  "  at  the  Court  Theatre.  Miss  Rorke  then  returned  to  the  Hay- 
market  for  a  short  season.  The  latter  engagement  was  followed  by  a 
long  one  at  the  Criterion,  in  the  course  of  which  she  played  the 
heroine  in  "Meg's  'Diversion,"  Mrs.  Dorothy  Sterry  in  "Truth," 
Carrie  Dalrymple  in  "Jilted,"  Mrs.  MacManus  in  "Betsy,"  Florence 
in  "Verbum  Sap.,"  Dagmarin  "Where's the  Cat  ?"  Dorinein  "Brave 
Hearts,"  Jenny  Talbot  in  "  Foggerty's  Fairy,"  Mary  Clifford  in 
"Cupid  in  Camp,"  and  Angelica  Porter  in  "Fourteen  Days." 
Accepting  an  engagement  with  the  Messrs.  Gatti,  Miss  Rorke  made 
a  hit  as  Lucy  in  "  The  Streets  of  London,"  and  she  successfully  acted 
Ruth  Herrick  during  along  tour  with  "  In  the  Ranks."  Returning 
to  the  Adelphi  last  autumn,  she  played  the  heroines  in  "  Arrah-na- 
Pogue  "  and  "  The  Colleen  Bawn,"  and  appeared  subsequently  as 
Lina  Nelson  in  "The  Harbour  Lights."  Our  readers  will  be  pleased 
to  see  Mr.  Barraud's  pretty  photograph  of  one  of  our  most  gifted 
emotional  actresses. 


Some   few   months   ago,   when  "On 'Change  "  was  produced  at  a 


JXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

-\  ^•^^^••••B 1 

t 
/ 
/ 
4 


Look  at  me." 

Till.    I  lAKIiOl    K    Ln.ll  I  ^ 


FROM    A    rilOTOGKAPH    bl'EClALLY   TAKEN    FOR    "THE   THEATRE "  BY    BARRAUD,    263,  OXFORD 

STREET,    W 


eVXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 


"Ye  canna  crush  a  Scotchman." 

ON  '('HAN<;K. 


<=~-==^ 


FROM    A    PHOTOGRAPH    BY    11AKKAUD,    263,    OXFORD   STREET,    W. 


MARCH  i,  i886.]  OUR   OMNIBUS-BOX.  163 

morning  performance,  it  was  found  that  the  play  itself  had  little  to  re- 
commend it,  but  the  clever  embodiment  of  a  Scotchman  by  an  actor 
quite  unknown  and  unheralded  saved  the  play,  with  the  result  that  it 
is  still  enjoying  a  successful  run.  The  unknown  actor  was  Mr.  Felix 
J.  Morris,  whose  photograph  in  character  is  printed  herewith.  He  is 
a  native  of  Birkenhead,  Cheshire,  and  was  born  on  April  25,  1850. 
He  commenced  life  as  a  medical  student  at  Guy's  Hospital,  but,  pre- 
ferring the  stage  to  anatomy,  he  left  England  for  America  in  1869. 
The  hardships  endured  by  the  young  aspirant  for  histrionic  fame  were 
at  first  terribly  severe.  After  a  hard  struggle,  he  at  length  obtained  a 
foothold  in  the  Albany  Theatre  in  a  position,  at  first,  little  better  than 
that  of  a  supernumerary.  After  three  years  of  incessant  and  varied 
Avork,  feeling  that  he  had  conquered  an  almost  fatal  nervousness,  and 
had  acquired  sufficient  experience,  he  made  a  bolder  bid  for  favour  in 
Canada,  where  he  was  long  appreciated,  and  where  he  received  the 
first  real  encouragement  in  his  career.  From  the  time  of  his  landing  in 
America  until  1885,  Mr.  Morris  spent  all  his  time  in  his  adopted 
country,  with  the  exception  of  a  part  of  a  season  when  he  visited  the 
West  Indies.  Through  the  offices  of  a  Canadian  admirer,  Mr.  Morris 
obtained  a  London  engagement,  and  had  the  gratification  of  playing 
at  last  before  an  audience  of  his  own  countrymen.  His  acting  as  the 
Scotch  professor  in  "  On  'Change"  has  become  the  talk  of  the  town, 
and  should  secure  him  a  permanent  place  on  the  metropolitan  stage. 


When  March,  with  treacherous  winds  and  sunny  skies,  has 
fairly  made  its  advent  known  amongst  us,  the  attention  of  many 
whose  lives  are  more  or  less  severed  from  their  usual  routine  of  action 
by  the  so-called  pleasures  of  a  London  season  will  gladly  be  directed 
towards  such  an  eminently  refined  and  intellectual  form  of  entertain- 
ment as  that  now  being  given  by  Mr.  Clifford  Harrison  at  Stein  way 
Hall  on  the  Saturday  afternoons  of  each  successive  week.  Those 
previously  acquainted  with  this  gentleman's  gifted  powers  of  recitation 
were  happily  destined  to  be  yet  more  favourably  impressed  by  the 
excellent  manner  with  which,  ^upon  the  opening  day  of  the  present 
series,  he  narrated  varied  scenes  and  incidents  of  human  life,  whilst 
others  but  just  acquainted  with  Mr.  Harrison's  talents  must  no  less 
willingly  have  admitted  that  in  him  we  find  a  striking  example  of 
unquestionable  abilities  being  turned  to  a  good  and  most  praiseworthy 
account. 

Glancing  for  a  moment  at  that  exquisitely  pathetic  tale  of  Heaven's 
joy  and  earth's  misery,  "  The  Legend  of  Provence,"  breathing  a  purity 
and  depth  of  feeling  such  as  never  seems  missing  from  the  lyrics  of 
Adelaide  Anne  Proctor,  we  recognise,  how  admirably  Mr.  Harrison,  by 
wedding  the  voice  of  music  to  the  poet's  innermost  thoughts,  succeeds 
in  alternately  placing  before  our  eyes  the  peaceful  life  and  holy  dreams 
of  Sister  Angela,  the  Convent  Child,  the  sad  tumult  of  sorrowing 
despair  subsequently  wrought  in  her  soul  by  undue  attachment  to  the 


1 64  THE  THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 

pleasures  of  this  life,  and  lastly,  the  weary  woman's  agonised  cry  of 
repentance,  when,  crouching  at  the  door  of  her  girlhood's  home — 
fearing  to  meet  the  recognising  gaze  of  those  whose  tender  voices 
arouse  fleeting  memories  of  many  a  bygone  year — Angela  finds 
herself  in  the  holy  presence  of  the  Virgin  Mother,  who  bears  to  the 
fainting  heart  not  only  the  joyful  message  of  Christ's  divine  forgive- 
ness, but  also  the  sweet  assurance  that  the  young  novice's  flight  is 
known  to  none,  her  daily  cares  and  duties  having  been  performed  by 
no  other  hands  than  those  of  the  Blessed  Mother  herself.  Words  can 
but  inadequately  describe  how  greatly  the  beauty  of  such  thoughts  as 
the  above  are  strengthened  and  intensified  by  the  solemn  chant  and 
plaintive  snatches  of  melody  which  Mr.  Harrison  appropriately 
introduces  at  varied  intervals  of  the  poem.  Still  more  forcibly, 
perhaps,  in  Baring  Gould's  "  Building  of  St.  Sophia  "  do  we  note  how 
effectively  the  soft  tones  of  music  put  the  finishing  touch  of  realism  to 
the  most  richly-coloured  dreams  of  poets'  fancy,  so  happy  in  thought 
and  treatment  being  the  diversified  strains  with  which  the  reciter 
heralds  the  approach  of  the  varied  nations  assembled  to  view  the 
majestic  splendour  of  the  temple  erected  by  Justinian  to  heathen 
deities  rather  than  to  the  one  true  God.  Not  solely,  however,  are  Mr. 
Harrison's  powers  centred  uponthe  enviable  task  of  creating,  or  at  least 
strengthening,  in  our  minds  the  existence  of  those  thoughts  "  that  do 
often  lie  too  deep  for  tears,"  as  instanced  by  his  admirable  delivery  of 
the  scene  from  the  "  Pickwick  Papers  ''  relating  to  the  Etanswill 
Election,  which,  with  one  or  two  other  sketches  of  a  like  laughable 
character,  brought  to  a  truly  merry  ending  an  entertainment  happily 
destined  to  prove  but  the  commencement  of  a  much  longer  series  of 
recitations  than  any  Mr.  Harrison  has  as  yet  given  us.  When  we  add 
that  this  gentleman  proposes  on  certain  afternoons  to  appropriate  the 
first  part  of  his  programme  to  an  individual  recital  of  many  special 
works  from  the  pen  of  Robert  Browning,  Lord  Byron,  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  and  Chas.  Kingsley,  as  also  to  some  well-known  scenes  in 
Shakespeare's  plays,  we  have  surely  exemplified  by  fact  that  Mr. 
Harrison's  powers  of  memory  and  imagination  are  of  no  limited  or 
commonplace  an  order. 


Mr.  Frank  Lindo's  second  recital  at  Stein  way  Hall,  January  2  6th, 
reflects  much  credit  on  one  so  young.  Mr.  Lindo  recited  the  play  of 
"Hamlet"  without  book,  and  was  letter  perfect;  not  a  hitch,  not  a  moment's 
hesitation.  His  elocution  was  excellent,  and  he  showed  much  power 
and  dramatic  intensity.  His  reading  was  that  of  Mr.  Wilson  Barrett  in 
every  detail  and  intonation.  Mr.  Lindo  has  a  fine  voice  somewhat  of 
the  same  quality  as  Mr.  Barrett's,  and  he  had  evidently  not  been  able  to 
resist  imitating  him ;  at  times  one  could  have  sworn  that  it  was  the 
talented  actor  himself  who  was  speaking.  This  was  clever,  but  to  be 
regretted,  however  good  the  model.  Mimicry  is  not  a  high  form  of  art, 


..  1886.]  OUR  OMNIBUS-BOX.  165 

and  Mr.  Frank  Lindo,  who  is  naturally  gifted,  will  find  that  he  will 
acquire  more  by  a  careful  study  of  the  author  than  by  that  of  any 
.special  exponent. 


The  Busy  Bees  gave  a  matinee,  at  the  Gaiety  Theatre  on  January  30, 
in  aid  of  the  National  Orthopaedic  Hospital.  The  performance  was 
excellent,  and  they  reaped  an  artistic  and  pecuniary  success.  It  was 
announced  that  the  charity  would  benefit  £220  or  ^"230,  as  kind  friends 
had  defrayed  all  expenses,  and  the  cheque  paid  to  Mr.  Hollingshead  for 
the  use  of  the  theatre  had  been  handed  over  by  him  to  the  charity  as 
his  subscription.  "  For  Her  Child's  Sake "  was  again  given  by  the 
Busy  Bees,  and  I  again  endorse  the  praise  I  gave  them  last  July. 
Mrs.  Lennox  Browne  and  Mr.  Arthur  Ayers  were  both  excellent  as 
Edith  and  Stephen  Ormonde,  showing  a  depth  of  feeling  in  no  way 
overdone.  Mr.  Claude  Penley  and  Mr.  Erskine  Lock  were  as  good  as 
ever.  Mr.  William  Harding,  the  only  one  new  in  the  cast,  was  also  good  ; 
but  these  three  last-named  were  hardly  audible  at  first.  "  Pygmalion  and 
Galatea"  was  surprisingly  well  acted  for  amateurs.  Praise  is  deserved 
by  all  but  two — Chrysos's  Slave,  by  Mr.  J.  Rudge  Harding,  and  the 
Pygmalion  of  Mr.  W.  L.  Hallward  ;  his  acting  is  stiff  and  unnatural, 
and  his  elocution  most  defective.  Mr.  A.  Boyer  Harding  did  well  as 
Pygmalion's  Slave.  Mr.  A.  H.  Morrison  was  one  of  the  very  best  Leucippes 
I  have  ever  seen  ;  and  the  Chrysos  of  Mr.  W.  Cope  was  very  funny.  It  is 
seldom  that  the  small  part  of  Myrine  falls  into  such  good  hands  as  those 
of  Miss  Gertrude  Warden ;  she  gave  life  to  a  role  which  is  too  often 
gone  through  anyhow.  Miss  Margaret  Brandon  was  a  very  good 
Cynisca;  Miss  Brandon,  who  is  a  good  actress,  ought  to  strive  against 
two  faults — a  lack  of  tenderness  when  it  is  needed,  and  a  want  of  variety 
in  the  expression  of  her  face  ;  earnestness  she  has,  and  the  speech 
4'O!  pitiful  adventurer!"  was  admirably  delivered,  showing  much 
dramatic  power.  Princess  Helen  of  Kappurthala  was  unfortunately  not 
well  made  up  as  Galatea ;  her  acting  was  very  sweet  and  maidenly ;  all 
the  strange  things  Galatea  says  came  from  her  lips  as  they  should, 
spoken  with  childlike  innocence.  Where  power  was  needed  she  was  a 
little  overweighted,  but  still  very  charming.  Mrs.  Lennox  Brown  was  a 
handsome  Daphne,  and  acted  her  part  very  well.  The  audience  was 
numerous  and  appreciative. 


The  performance  given  by  the  Owl  D.  S.  at  St.  George's  Hall  Feb- 
ruary 4th  was  decidedly  more  successful  than  the  previous  one  of  the 
same  society.  "  David  Garrick  "  was  the  piece  represented,  with  Mr. 
Arthur  Hanson  in  the  title  role.  Rather  stiff  in  the  first  act,  he  warmed 
to  his  work  and  did  very  well  in  the  second,  but  in  the  third  he  either 
forgot  his  part  or  was  strangely  absent-minded,  for  he  neither  attempted 
to  act  his  part  or  to  give  meaning  to  his  words.  Mr.  J.  E.  Mortimer  had 
a  fair  idea  of  how  old  Ingot  ought  to  be  played,  but  he  was  very  uncertain 
of  his  words,  and  too  frequently  gave  way  to  an  inclination  to  laugh.  Mr. 
NEW  SERIES — VOL.  VII.  N 


THE  THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 

Frank  Hole  acted  Squire  Chivy  with  his  usual  "  go,"  and  Mr.  G.  A. 
Toplis,  Mr.  F.  Darnley,  and  Mr.  W.  M.  Colling  filled  the  remaining  parts 
adequately.  I  cannot  say  much  for  Miss  Emmie  Marshall's  impersona- 
tion of  Ada.  Mrs.  Davidson  Nichol  and  Miss  Florence  Smart  did  very 
well  in  their  small  parts.  By  some  mistake  the  curtain  came  down  in 
the  middle  of  the  second  act,  to  the  performers'  dismay ;  it  was  promptly 
raised  again,  however,  but,  as  a  compensation.  I  suppose,  at  the  end  of 
the  piece,  after  the  last  word  w'as  spoken,  the  signal  had  to  be  given  twice 
before  it  was  lowered.  "  More  than  Ever,"  Arthur  Mathisson's  clever 
concentrated  Tragedy  in  one  Horror,  was  well  acted  all  round,  especially 
by  Mr.  Arthur  W.  Hughes  and  Mr.  Frank  Hole.  Miss  Lydia  Miller,  who 
was  making  her  first  appearance,  is  very  pretty,  and  did  all  that  was 
required  of  her  in  so  small  a  part.  Mr.  R.  Vincent  Hughes,  Mr.  W.  M. 
Colling,'  and  Mr.  G.  Davenport  were  also  in  the  cast.  The  dances  were 
very  well  executed  indeed,  and  the  play  went  off  briskly. 


"The  Guv'nor"  and  "  Ruth's  Romance,"  given  by  the  Tottenham 
House  D.C.,  February  6,  certainly  ranks  as  one  of  the  very  best  per- 
formances given  at  St.  George's  Hall  for  the  last  few  months  ;  indeed,  the 
impersonation  of  Theo.  Macclesfield  by  Mr.  S.  Convener  alone  served  to 
remind  one  that  these  were  amateurs.  The  cast  included  : — Messrs.  B. 
G.  Lovell,  J.  A.  Laffy,  A.  J.  Mullins,  C.  Davis,  R.  Mosley,  D.  E.  Owen 
W.  E.  Hurst,  C.  H.  Carmichael,  and  W.  Dee,  who  all  acted  very  well' 
Mr.  J.  A.  Stewart  and  Mr.  H.  Hammond  proved  themselves  real  artistes 
as  Old  Macclesfield  and  Freddy.  The  former  gave  a  remarkably  clever 
piece  of  character  acting,  funny  in  the  extreme,  but  not  the  least  vulgar- 
The  latter  was  gentlemanly  and  earnest,  and  thoroughly  won  the  sympathy 
of  the  audience  by  his  capital  acting.  The  amateurs  further  showed 
their  judgment  in  the  selection  of  the  fair  professionals  whose  services 
they  enlisted.  Miss  Effie  Liston  and  Miss  Kittie  Claremont  were  charming- 
as  the  Butterscotch  ladies.  Miss  Kate  Hodson  was  a  first-rate  Mrs. 
Macclesfield,  while  as  her  daughter  Miss  Annie  White  was  sympathetic 
and  pleasing  ;  and  Miss  Edith  Hamilton  was  a  very  good  maid.  "  Ruth's 
Romance"  showed  Mr.  H.  Finnis  and  Mr.  A.  J.  Mullins  to  great  advan- 
tage, and  the  Ruth  of  Miss  Kittie  Claremont  was  most  bewitching 
However  full  of  spirits,  this  young  lady's  acting  is  always  refined,  simple, 
and  earnest ;  her  Ruth  was  both  witty  and  sympathetic.  That  Miss 
Kittie  Claremont  gives  careful  study  to  her  part  is  evident,  but  working  in 
the  right  way  she  preserves  all  the  freshness  and  fragrance  of  perfect 
nature.  The  Tottenham  House  Band  was  excellent  as  usual. 


A  commemorative  celebration  of  the  anniversary  of  Charles  Dickens's 
birthday  was  held  at  the  Freemasons'  Hall  on  February  8,  the  actual  date 
the  yth,  falling  on  a  Sunday.  The  celebration  took  the  form  of  an 
entertainment  and  a  costume  ball.  The  reading  and  recitation  were, 
to  be  expected,  from  the  works  of  the  great  novelist,  the  music  also 
being  appropriate  to  the  occasion  ;  and  Mr.  Edwin  Drew,  the  originator 


MARCH  i,  i886.]  OUR   OMNIBUS-BOX.  167 

of  this,  also  read  some  of  his  own  verses  in  praise  of  Charles  Dickens,  and 
contributed  "  The  Death  of  Little  Nell "  for  his  share  of  the  reading. 
Mr.  Drew  had,  I  believe,  several  disappointments,  and  there  was  nothing 
very  striking  in  the  entertainment,  though  a  word  of  praise  must  be  given 
to  the  Misses  Virginia  and  Emily  Blackwood  and  Mr.  Charles  Cameron  ; 
the  latter  is  a  rough  diamond  at  present,  but  worth  the  polishing.  Unfor- 
tunately for  the  success  of  the  ball,  it  began  too  early,  many  of  the 
dancers  only  appearing  after  the  theatres  were  over.  The  costumes  were 
in  the  minority,  and  not  always  easily  denned.  Mrs.  Weldon  as  Sergeant 
Buzfuz,  accompanied  by  Mrs.  Bardell,  was  the  most  striking.  The 
affair  cannot  be  called  a  complete  success,  but  the  idea  is  good  and  worth 
repeating.  It  had  evidently  created  real  interest  in  the  literary  and 
dramatic  world,  who  were  well  represented.  The  programmes  were 
novel  and  artistic  in  design,  and  a  performance  of  the  Royal  Punch  and 
Judy  was  given  during  the  ball. 


The  following  prologue,  written  by  Mr.  W.  L.  Courtney,  was 
delivered  on  February  13,  1886,  on  the  occasion  of  the  opening  of  the 
new  theatre  at  Oxford,  with  a  representation  of  "  Twelfth  Night  "  by 
the  Oxford  University  Dramatic  Societ}'  : — 

CHARACTERS : 

Ancient  Spirit  of  the  Drama     \     M     RoiTRrHIFR 
Modern  Undergraduate  I      Mr<  ^  ER> 


Enter  Spirit  of  the  Drama,  dishevelled  and  bent. 

Lone  and  dishonoured,  lurking  in  the  shade, 

Creeping  in  twilight  darkness,  half  afraid 

To  meet  the  eyes  of  honest  men,  I  stand 

With  lowered  face  and  deprecating  hand, 

Irresolute  whether  to  remain  or  flee  — 

Spirit  of  Drama,  as  it  used  to  be. 

*  Animula  vagula  ' — how  runs  their  patter  ? 

For  in  a  learned  city  one  must  chatter 

In  learned  language,  or  be  reckoned  silly — 

I  mean,  I'm  badly  clad  and  somewhat  chilly. 

Years  upon  years  of  academic  rule, 

Proctorial  mandates,  and  the  cruel  School 

Of  Statutes,  framed  by  Laud,  have  left  me  this, 

A  thing  for  all  to  mock  at  and  to  hiss, 

With  tangled  locks  and  battered  wreath  and  less 

Than  nothing  on  to  hide  my  nakedness. 

'Mid  fumes  of  nicotine  to  make  you  sick, 

I've  earned  a  wretched  pittance  at  '  the  Vic  '  : 

I've  tried  to  make  you  laugh  with  poor  burlesque  ; 

I've  tried  to  tempt  the  scholar  from  his  desk 

With  nothing  better  the  whole  sad  night  long 

Than  doubtful  dance  and  more  than  doubtful  song. 

What  else  was  left  for  me  to  do  or  try  ? 

I  knew  the  statute  'gainst  "  funambuli  "  ; 

And  oft  the  words  have  muttered  'mid  my  cronies, 

N   2 


j68  THE  THEATRE.  [MARCH  i, 

"  Incarcerentur  omnes  histriones." 

What's  this  ?     Where  am  I  ?     Is  it  all  a  fancy  ? 
A  product  of  some  Eastern  necromancy  ? 
Is  this  the  Indian  Institute  of  Monier  ? 
Or  the  New  School  ?    or  something  even  funnier — 
Perhaps  prophetic  of  the  distant  future— 
A  model  almshouse  for  the  married  tutor  ? 
A  brand  new  Theatre  ?    Why  then  'tis  clear 
My  day  is  over  ;  I've  no  business  here. 
At  last  !     Instead  of  Darkness  shines  the  Day  : 
Arise,  thou  modern  Spirit  of  the  Play. 

Enter  Undergraduate. 

I  thought  I  heard  some  ancient  voice  invoke 
The  Modern  Spirit.     Can  it  be  a  joke  ? 
No,  everywhere  around  me  signs  arise 
Of  some  new  order  dawning  on  men's  eyes. 

Disfranchised  by  some  most  unworthy  dodge, 
Subordinated  to  a  rustic  Hodge, 
We  yet  can  look  unenvious  on  the  shield 
Whereon  there  stands  too  obviously  revealed, — 
Emblem  of  our  new  firm  of  Cabinet-makers — 
Our  city  cow,  agraze  on  three  blue  acres,  f 
For  we  without  a  bribe,  without  a  vote, 
Have  found  a  stall  for  our  dramatic  goat ; 
Yet  e'en  this  goat  to  Politics  we  owe  it — 
Aristotelian  '  Polities'  of  Jowett. 
But  cow  and  goat  no  politics  shall  sever, 
Both  shall  graze  on  'mid  cries  of  "  Hall  for  ever  !  " 

What,  have  we  then  no  platform  ?     Yes,  the  stage. 
No  ticket  ?     No,  they've  all  been  sold  an  age. 
A  programme  ?    Yes  !     "  The  rule  of  Law  and  Order  * 
Disguised  in  an  admixture  of  soft  sawder. 
New  members  with  our  novel  house  begin, 
Lawson  is  out,  but  Drinkwater  is  in  ; 
While  the  cross-benches,  free  from  Irish  taint, 
Lucas  will  look  as  fresh  as  any  paint. 
You  have  your  seats,  but  all  unseated  we 
Stand  for  a  critical  constituency. 
Tf  we're  returned,  there's  none  that  disagrees 
To  take  the  oath— to  do  his  best  to  please. 

Now  for  our  play— Shakespeare's,  you  may  be  sure, 
We  aim  no  lower,  nor  a  worse  endure  ; 
Constant  we  hope  our  names  will  fill  the  bill, 
"Twelfth  Night,"  to-night  ;  hereafter  "  What  you  Will." 

{Exit  I 


Our  Melbourne  correspondent  writes  : — 

Our  only  sensation  during  the  month  of  November  was  the  produc- 
tion, at  the  Theatre  Royal,  on  Saturday,  yth,  of  an  American  drama,, 
<  The  Shadows  of  a  Great  City."  It  was  by  no  means  a  good  speci- 
men of  its  class,  and,  although  splendidly  mounted,  failed  to  achieve 
any  success.  Mr.  J.  C.  Williamson,  Miss  Maggie  Moore,  Miss  Kate 

*  Statt  :  xv.  §§  7.  3. 

Oxford  City  Anns  are  :  Argent  an  Ox  Gules,  armed  and  ungulled  Or,  passing  over  a  ford  of  water 

in  base,  proper. 


MARCH  i,  1836.]  OUR   OMNIBUS-BOX.  169 

Bishop  (her  first  appearance  at  this  theatre),  and  Mr.  H.  Vincent, 
sustained  the  principal  roles.  On  Saturday,  November  27,  Mr.  Geo. 
Rignold  revived  "  Faust  ''  at  the  Opera  House,  appearing  himself  as 
Mephistopheles,  Miss  Lucia  Harwood  being  the  Marguerite,  Mr.  Brian 
Darley,  Faust,  and  Mr.  T.  B.  Appleby,  Siebel.  Contrary  to  all  expecta- 
tion, the  drama  made  a  hit  and  ran  until  Christmas  Eve,  when 
11  Henry  V."  was  put  forward  in  opposition  to  the  pantomime,  and  is 
now  drawing  good  houses.  It  must  be  withdrawn  in  three  weeks  to 
make  way  for  "  Madame  L'Archiduc  "  and  a  new  opera  company, 
which  comprises  Mdlle.  Lottie  Monital  (Mdme.  Poussard),  once  knowa 
to  Alhambra  frequenters,  Miss  Annette  Ivanova,  Mr.  Phil  Day,  Mr. 
Albert  Brennir,  and  others.  On  Monday,  Dec.  yth,  "  Saints  and 
Sinners"  replaced  "The  Shadows  of  a  Great  City"  at  the  Theatre 
Royal,  and  was  played  with  partial  success  until  Dec.  22nd.  Miss 
Essie  Jenyns,  Miss  Maggie  Moore,  Mr.  J.  C.  Williamson,  Mr.  W. 
Holloway,  and  Mr.  Frank  Gates  were  the  principal  artistes  concerned 
On  Christmas  Eve  the  usual  sacred  concert  was  held  in  the  theatre^ 
and  on  Boxing-night  we  beheld  the  wonders  of  the  only  pantomime  in 
the  city.  The  story  selected  was  that  of  "  The  Sleeping  Beauty,"  and 
the  author,  Mr.  Ganett  Walch,  has  performed  his  duty  in  a  most 
perfunctory  manner.  From  a  literary  point  of  view,  it  is  the  worst 
pantomime  we  have  yet  had ;  but  from  a  spectacular  point  it  is  the 
best.  Miss  Emma  Chambers,  Miss  Amy  Horton,  Mr.  H.  R.  Harwood,. 
the  Raynor  Brothers,  Mr.  A.  Redwood,  and  a  host  of  local  actors  fill 
up  the  cast.  After  the  pantomime,  "  lolanthe  "  is  to  be  revived  for  a. 
short  season,  and  then  we  are  to  have  "  The  Mikado."  Mr.  Pinero's 
three-act  farce,  "The  Magistrate,"  did  eight  weeks' excellent  business 
at  the  Bijou  Theatre,  and  was  replaced  on  Saturday,  Jan.  2nd,  by  Mr. 
Grundy's  comedy,  "  The  Glass  of  Fashion,"  which  does  not  appear  to 
suit  our  public.  Miss  Nina  Boucicault,  Miss  Florence  Trevelyan, 
Mr.  "Dot"  Boucicault,  Mr.  G.  S.  Titherage,  and  Mr.  Robert  Brough 
are  included  in  the  bill.  The  Leon  and  Cushman  Minstrels — a  very 
clever  company — are  drawing  crowded  houses  to  the  Nugget  Theatre 
by  the  excellence  of  their  performances.  A  variety  company  are  at 
the  Victoria  Hall,  and  Mr.  Harry  Rickards  is  singing  at  St.  George's 
Hall ;  he  has  been  doing  very  bad  business. 


Sydney  has  several  pantomimes  this  year — "  Cinderella "  at  the 
Royal,  "King  Cockatoo"  at  the  Alhambra,  "Mother  Goose" 
at  the  Olympic,"  and  "  Black-Hide  Susan"  at  the  Academy  of  Music, 
Mr.  G.  W.  Anson's  season  at  the  Sydney  Opera  was  a  most  disastrous 
failure,  and  was  abbreviated ;  Mr.  John  L.  Hall  took  his  place,  and  is 
now  playing  "  Baffled."  Mr.  Alfred  Dampier  is  playing  "  The  Cricket 
on  the  Hearth  "  at  the  Gaiety  Theatre.  Adelaide  has  to  depend  on  a 
stock  company  and  minstrel  show  for  holiday  fare.  New  Zealand  has 
a  number  of  companies  now  on  tour  Mr.  Geo.  Darrell  is  playing  his 


i7o  THE  THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 

own  pieces  in  Auckland  ;  the  Majeroni  Opera  Company  are  at  Christ- 
church  ;  John  Radcliffe  and  Pauline  Rita  are  in  Wellington  ;  the 
Emerson  Minstrels  and  "  Dick  Whittington  "  tempt  the  canny  folks  of 
Dunedin  ;  and  numbers  of  minor  combinations  are  on  the  roads.  Mr. 
Anson  contemplates  a  tour  in  that  country.  It  may  not  be  out  of  place 
to  mention  that  the  Sydney  public  thoroughly  appreciated  Mr. 
Anson's  ability  as  an  actor,  and  I  should  have  to  record  a  success 
were  it  not  for  the  utter  incompetence  of  the  people  he  brought  out 
with  him,  and  the  antiquated  plays,  "  Grimaldi "  and  "  Noah's  Ark," 
he  elected  to  open  with.  As  a  general  rule,  it  is  perfectly  useless  for 
any  actor  to  attempt  the  colonies  unless  he  comes  to  a  responsible 
management  and  has  fixed  dates.  Our  theatres  are  always  engaged 
months  ahead — that  is,  those  very  few  which  can  be  rented  by  anyone 
desirous  of  doing  so.  All  the  theatres  in  the  largest  and  best  paying 
cities  are  in  the  hands  of  three  firms,  who  have  several  companies  of 
their  own  to  occupy  them  constantly.  The  colonies  are  a  true 
El  dorado  to  the  capable  actor  who  comes  out  here  under  engagement, 
as  Miss  Ward  and  Mr.  Dion  Boucicault  can  testify,  but  without  that 
it  simply  means  bankruptcy.  I  sound  these  few  notes  of  warning  in 
the  hope  of  preventing  some  aspiring  Thespian,  inflamed  by  the 
accounts  of  the  money  to  be  made  out  of  the  gentle  colonist,  from 
finding  himself  one  day  with  nothing  in  his  pockets — no  money  to  pay 
his  passage  back,  his  only  resource  the  boilers  on  the  river  wharf, 
facetiously  known  as  "  The  Swell's  Hotel,"  where  many  a  man,  whose 
name  and  deeds  are  better  known  on  your  side  of  the  water,  has  been 
glad  to  find  a  night's  rest. 

Miss  Calhoun,  who  is  at  present  on  a  visit  to  her  home  in  California, 
will  return  to  England  in  a  few  weeks,  and  will  produce,  in  July  next, 
a  new  and  original  play,  which  has  been  specially  written  for  her  by 
Herman  C.  Merivale. 


Mr.  H.  Savile  Clarke's  bright  comedietta,  "  A  Lyrical  Lover," 
originally  produced  at  the  Imperial  Theatre  in  March,  1881,  has 
been  successfully  revived  at  the  Strand  Theatre,  where  the  heroine 
finds  a  clever  representative  in  Miss  Annie  Baldwin. 


The  seventh  annual  issue  of  "Dramatic  Notes,"  by  Austin  Brereton, 
will  be  issued  by  the  publishers  of  this  magazine,  Messrs.  Carson  and 
Comerford,  at  the  end  of  March.  It  will  contain,  as  heretofore, 
portraits  in  character  of  the  principal  actors  and  actresses  who 
have  figured  in  the  chief  productions  of  the  London  stage  during 
1885. 


I  am  desirous  of  contradicting  a  statement   which   has   recently 
appeared  in  several  papers  to  the   effect  that   I   intend  abandoning 


MARCH  i,  1886.] 


OUR  OMNIBUS-BOX. 


171 


literature  for  the  elocutionary  platform.  There  is  absolutely  no 
foundation  whatever  for  this  report  beyond  the  fact  that,  because  I 
read  one  of  my  own  compositions  a  week  or  two  ago  for  the  benefit 
of  a  charity,  it  is  assumed  by  certain  clever  writers  that  I  intend  to 
devote  the  remainder  of  my  days  to  competition  with  such  profes- 
sional reciters  as  Mr.  Wilson  Barrett  and  Mr.  William  Terriss.  I 
have  no  such  intention,  although  I  shall  doubtless  read  and  lecture  in 
public  on  future  occasions,  should  my  other  duties  permit  me  to  do  so. 


January     28. 


30- 


February    4. 


10. 


New  plays  produced,  and  important  revivals,  in  London,  the  provinces, 
and  Paris,  from  January  25  to  February  22,  1886  :  - 
(Revivals  are  marked  thus  *). 

LONDON : 

"  Enemies,"  a  comedy-drama,  in  five  acts,  adapted  by  Charles 
F.  Coghlan  from  Georges  Ohnet's  romance,  "La  Grande 
Marniere."  Prince's  Theatre. 

"The  Sins  of  the  Fathers,"  a  drama,  in  one  act,  by  W. 
Lestocq. 

"  A  Woman  of  the  World,"  a  comedy,  in  three  acts,  adapted 
from  the  German  by  B.  C.  Stephenson.  Haymarket  Theatre. 
(Matinee — single  performance.) 

"Mistaken  Identity,"   a   new   farce,    in    one    act,  by  Alfred 
Murray.     Gaiety  Theatre.     (Matinde — single  performance.) 
"Faust  and  Loose;   or,  Brocken  Vows,"  a  travestie,  in  one 
act,  by  F.  C.  Burnand.     Toole's  Theatre. 

"  Sappho,"  a  lyrical  romance,  in  one  act,  lyrics  by  Harry  Lobb, 
music  by  Walter  Slaughter.  Opera  Comique.  (Matinee — 
single  performance.) 

"  The  Carp,"  a  new  and  original  musical  whimsicality,  in  one 
act,  written  by  Frank  Desprez,  music  by  Alfred  Cellier.  Savoy 
Theatre. 

"Antoinette  Rigaud,"  a  new  comedy,  in  three  acts,  by  Ray- 
mond Deslandes,  translated  by  Ernest  Warren.  St.  James's 
Theatre. 

"  Keep  Your  Places,"  operetta,  in  one  act,  by  Robert  Reece, 
music  by  G.  B.  Allen.  St.  George's  Hall.  (Matinee— single 
performance.) 

"Wife  or  Widow,"  a  drama,  in  four  acts,  by  Clifton  W. 
Tayleure.  Grand  Theatre. 

*  "  Engaged,"  an  original  farcical  comedy,  in  three  acts,  by 
W.  S.  Gilbert.  Haymarket  Theatre. 

"  The  Lord  Harry,"  a  new  and  original  romantic  play,  in  live 
acts,  by  Henry  Arthur  Jones  and  Wilson  Barrett.  Princess's 
Theatre. 

PROVINCES  : 

"  Mizpah."  a  comedy-drama,  in  four  acts,  by  J.  B.  Mulholland. 
Theatre  Royal,  Great  Grimsby. 

"  The  Landlord,"  an  original  domestic  drama,  in  four  acts,  by 
W.  J.  Colling  Hall.     Theatre  Royal,  Sunderland. 
"  Through  Fire  and  Snow,"  a  new  comedy-drama,  in  a  prologue 
and   three   acts,  by   Max   Goldberg.      Theatre    Royal,  Scar- 
borough. 


1 8. 

January    25. 
February     8. 


THE  THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 

PARIS. 

January     24.*  "La.  Casquette  du  Pere  Bugeaud,"  a  military  melodrama,  in 

three  acts,  by    MM.  Gaston,  Marot,   and  Clairian.     Chateau 

d'Eau. 
.,          ,,      "  Le  Nouveau  Seigneur  du  Village,"  a  comic    opera,  in  one 

act,  by  Boi'eldieu.      Opera  Comique. 
J?          27.     "  Trop  de  Vertu,"    a   comedy,  in  three  acts,    by  Hennequin 

fere  and  Jits.     Palais  Royal. 

„          ,,      "  La  Cuisine  du  Diable,"  a  pantomime.     Cirque  d'Hiver. 
,,         29.*  "  Doit-on   le  dire?"    a  comedy,  in   three    acts,   by   Eugene 

Labiche  and  Alfred  Duru.     Cluny. 
,,         30.*  "  Trois  Femmes  pour  un  Mari,"  a  comedy,  in  three  acts,  by 

Grenet-Dancourt.     Dejazet. 
„          ,,      "Les   Demoiselles  Clochart,"  a  comedy-vaudeville,    in   three 

acts,  by  Henry  Meilhac.    Varies. 
,,          31*  "Le  Sonneur  de  Saint  Paul,"  a  drama,  in  five  acts,  by  Bou- 

chardy.     Ambigu. 
February     i.*  "  Le  Voyage  de  Monsieur  Perrichon,"  a  comedy,  in  four  acts, 

by  Labiche.     Vaudeville. 
,,          2.*  "  Le  Fils  de  Famille,"  a  comedy,  in  three  acts,  by  MM.  Bayard 

and  Bieville.     Odeon. 
,,          4.     "  Le  Mari  d'un  Jour,"  a  comic  opera,  in  three  acts,  by  Adolphe 

d'Ennery  and  Armand  Silvestre  ;   music    by  Arthur  Coquard. 

Opera  Comique. 
,,          ,,*  "La   Boule,"  a  comedy,  in  three  acts,  by  MM.  Meilhac  and 

Hals' vy.     Palais- Royal. 
,,          5.*  "  Les  Ouvriers,"  adrama,  in  one  act,  by  Manuel.       Come'die 

Fran^aise. 

,,          8.*  "  Andromaque,"  a  tragedy,  in  five  acts,  by  Racine.     Ode'on. 
,,          9.*  L'Assommoir,"  a  drama,  in  nine  tableaux,  by  William  Busnach 

and  Gastineau.     Chatelet. 

,,         12.     Inauguration  of  the  Nouveau  Cirque  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore. 
,,         13.     "  Les  Noces  Improvisees,"  a  comic  opera  in  three  acts,  words 

by  Armand  Livrat  and  Albert  Fonteny ;  music  by  Chassaigne. 

Bouffes-Parisiens. 
,,          ,,*    "  Nana,"  a  drama,  in  five  acts,  by  William  Busnach.     Beau- 

marchais. 
,,          17*  "  Nuits  du  Boulevard,"  a  drama,  in  five  acts,  by  Pierre  Zac- 

come  and  The'odore  Henry.     Nations. 
,,        18.     "Djemmah,"a  ballet,  in  two  acts,  by  Le'once    Detroyat  and 

Pluque,  music  by  Francis  Thome". 
,,          ,,      "  Folie  Parisienne,  a  ballet  pantomime,  in  two  acts  and  four 

tableaux  ;  music  by  Francis  Thome.     Eden 
,,         19.     "  Serment  d'Amour,"  a  comic  opera,  in  three  acts,  by  Maurice 

Ordonneau;  music  byEdmond  Audran.     Nouveautes. 


MARCH  i,  1886.]  PUNCH  AND  JUDY.  173 


Punch     and     Judy. 

DO  you  remember,  or  do  I 
Endow  a  dreamer's  fancy 
With  such-like  life  as  may  be  by 

A  poet's  necromancy, 
How  one  still  night  with  stealthy  feet 

We  paced  the  quiet  city, 
That  seemed  to  compass  in  each  street, 
Some  tale  of  grief  or  pity  ? 

But  as  thus  aimlessly  we  went, 

A  burst — a  sudden  sally 
Of  laughter  and  of  merriment 

Came  up  a  narrow  alley. 
The  silent  city  rang  again 

With  cries,  shrill  and  sonorous, 
Till  you  and  I  were  wellnigh  fain 

To  join  the  merry  chorus. 

Methinks  'twas  you  that  first  began— 

Tho'  I  stole  quickly  after — 
To  risk  a  laugh  that  swiftly  ran 

Into  maturer  laughter. 
"  There  still  be  cakes  and  ale,"  you  said, 

"E'en  for  the  poor  and  wretched, 
And  hearts  long  since  to  mis'ry  wed 

Are  yet  by  mirth  infected." 

Then,  by  a  common  impulse  led, 

We  two,  at  quickened  measure, 
Adown  the  narrow  passage  sped — 

Strange  temple,  sure,  of  pleasure  ! 
And  still  rang  out  the  jocund  sound, 

With  pleasant  iteration, 
Of  children's  voices,  that  had  crowned 

Their  mirth  with  exultation. 

And  lo  !  before  a  public  house, 

Lit  up  with  flaming  burners, 
That  leaped  and  shrieked  in  shrill  carouse, 

Like  some  weird  scene  of  Turner's  ; 


174  THE  THEATRE.  [MARCH  i,  1886. 

A  crowd,  young,  middle-aged,  and  old, 

Staid,  careless,  joyful,  moody, 
Stood  round  a  puppet  show,  where  held 

High  revels,  Punch  and  Judy ! 

A  motley  crowd — the  week  and  hale, 

Forgetting  even  hunger, 
To  listen  to  the  oft-heard  tale 

Told  by  a  ballad-monger. 
And  how  they  laughed  when  Punch,  the  wretch, 

Whacked  Judy  with  his  bludgeon  ; 
And  showed  small  mercy  to  Jack  Ketch, 

That  impudent  curmudgeon. 

Then  faces,  that  long  years  ago 

Had  aged  grown  and  wrinkled, 
Broke  into  sunny  smiles,  and  lo  ! 

Eyes,  worn  with  weeping,  twinkled. 
And,  as  the  dolls,  with  gestures  wild, 

Went  back  and  forwards  prancing, 
The  crowd,  infected,  joked  and  smiled, 

While  some  fell  to  adancing. 

But  we  who  stood  so  far  apart, 

Without  the  merry  chorus, 
Had  we  then  lost  the  laughing  art, 

Which  swayed  the  crowd  before  us  ? 
W7ith  heavy  hearts  we  turned  and  went 

Back  tward  the  gaping  entry, 
Where,  crouched  in  silence,  bowed  and  bent, 

Lay  Night,  like  some  grim  Sentry. 

And  so  life's  puppets  come  and  go  : 
Declaiming  each  his  story, 

Then  passing  forth  from  out  the  show- 
Strange  scene  of  fleeting  glory  ! 

A  platform  this  for  ev'ry  age 
To  whet  its  steel  on  foeman, 

With  God  as  judge— the  World  for  Stage— 
And  Death  the  grinning  Showman. 

T.  MALCOLM  WATSON. 


THE  THEATRE. 


The   Discontents  of  a   Dramatist. 

BY  H.  SCHUTZ  WILSON. 
"And  high  disdain  from  sense  of  injured  merit." — MILTON. 

IT  has  been  said — and  said  by  a  great  dramatist — that,  as  the 
Creator  is  shrouded  in  His  own  creation,  so  Shakespeare,  the 
man,  is  hidden  from  us  by  the  veil  of  his  own  works.  Schiller 
says  further  (Ueber  naive  und  sentimentalische  Dichtung)  that,  in  his 
youth,  he  sought  in  vain  to  find  the  poet  Shakespeare  behind  his 
work ;  he  strove,  without  success,  to  pierce  to  the  heart  of  the 
dramatist ;  he  essayed,  without  result,  to  attain  to  a  conviction  of 
the  personality  of  the  poet  who  remained  hidden  in  his  dramas  ; 
that  he  found  it  insupportable  to  feel  that  the  man  could  never  be 
found  revealing  himself;  and  that  it  took  him  many  years  of 
worship  of  the  writer  before  he  could  learn  to  recognise,  or  to 
love,  the  individual  so  deeply  shrined  within  his  poet's  work.  It 
is  not  probable  that  Schiller  ever  attained  to  clear  insight  into  the 
man,  Shakespeare ;  and  many  others  have  found,  and  find,  some- 
thing of  the  same  difficulty.  This  difficulty  arises  from  several 
causes  :  it  is  partly  owing  to  the  dramatic  form  in  which  Shake- 
speare chiefly  worked — a  form  which  tends  to  raise  a  seeming 
barrier  between  author  and  reader ;  it  is  in  a  measure  due  to  the 
absence  of  memoirs,  of  biography  or  autobiography ;  and  it  is  a 
result  of  our  comparative  ignorance  of  the  personality,  or  the 
ways  of  life  of  the  mystic  writer  of  a  few  poems,  of  many  dramas, 
and  of  some  sonnets. 

Indeed,  when  we  think  of  Shakespeare,  the  first  natural  im- 
pulse is  to  see  his  work  only.  The  crowd  of  characters  which  he 
has  created  fill  our  imaginations,'and  we  find  it  difficult  to  see 
through  that  crowd,  and_to  get  sight  of  the  man  behind  it  who 
had  called  out  of  vacancy,  out  of  the  thin  air  of  fantasy,  so  many 

NEW   SERIES. — VOL.   VII.  O 


176  THE    THEATRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886. 

real  and  yet  ideal  beings.  Great  as  Shakespeare  is  as  dramatist 
—and  he  is  the  greatest  dramatist — he  is  yet  greater  as  poet ;  and 
this  fact  explains  his  greatness  as  a  dramatist.  Of  all  the  forms 
of  imaginative  creation,  the  drama  is  the  one  which  most  obscures 
the  maker,  and  Shakespeare's  dramatic  transfusion  of  himself 
into  his  characters — whether  it  be  Hamlet  or  Falstaff — is  so  com- 
plete, that  we  stop  short  at  the  creature,  and  see  it  rather  than  the 
creator  who  remains  behind.  But,  after  long  knowledge  of  and 
delight  in  the  supreme  genius  of  Shakespeare,  we  begin  to  desire 
to  pierce  through  the  work  to  the  worker,  and  through  the  poet  to 
recognise  the  man.  In  a  spiritual  sense  we  can  attain  to  some 
insight  into  the  nature,  the  character,  the  mind  of  Shakespeare. 
We  can  see  what  things  he  loved  and  admired,  what  things  he 
scorned  and  detested  ;  and  we  can  see,  even  if  it  be,  as  it  were, 
through  a  glass,  darkly,  his  hopes,  beliefs,  convictions,  fancies 
about  the  unseen  world,  and  man's  relations  to  the  great  intan- 
gible mystery  which  surrounds  man's  mystic  life  in  time,  and  in 
this  unintelligible  world.  Things  which  we  can,  as  it  seems  to 
me,  discern  with  peculiar  clearness  are — his  discontents  as  a 
dramatist ;  his  indignation,  half  bitter,  half  sad,  at  the  injustice 
or  misjudgment  shown  to  him  by  his  contemporaries.  Milton, 
who  had  so  much  less  cause  for  literary  complaint,  could 
yet  conceive  the  feeling  which  Shakespeare  more  strongly  felt ; 
and  could  realise,  were  it  only  in  imagination,  the 

"  High  disdain  from  sense  of  injured  merit." 

The  greatest  minds  must  have  suffered  in  a  supreme  degree 
from 

"  The  spurns 
That  patient  merit  of  the  unworthy  takes  ;" 

from  envy,  hatred  and  malice ;  from  jealousy,  ingratitude,  mis- 
understanding ;  nay,  even  from  perfidy  and  [undeserved  detrac- 
tion. He  would  find 

"  More  active  Hate  than  Love  ;" 

He  would  realise  the  world's  malignity,  and  his  spirit,  so  finely 
strung,  would  be  very  sensitive— even  super-sensitive— to  injustice, 
anrl  would  bear  a  sore  sense  of  the  causeless  enmity  and  antagon- 
ism of  men.  I  think  that  such  feeling  finds,  at  least,  partial  ex- 
pression in  his  work,  though  "  speech  is  but  broken  light  upon  the 
depth  of  the  unspoken."  He  might  despise  opinion — or,  rather, 


APRIL  i,  iv&\  DISCONTENTS  OF  A  DRAMATIST.  177 


estimate  accurately  its  exact  value  —  and  yet  be  tenderly  sensitive 
to  cruelty  and  wrong.  He  would  yearn  for  equity,  sympathy  and 
human  kindliness  ;  and  yet  would  have  to  recognise,  in  sadness, 
soreness,  weariness,  dejection,  that 

"  It  seems  like  stories  from  the  land  of  spirits 
If  any  man  obtain  that  which  he  merits, 
Or  any  merit  that  which  he  attains." 

The  gentle-hearted  Shakespeare  may  have  suffered  deeply  from 
calumny,  slander,  wanton  injury  and  unmerited  obloquy.  He  was 
too  great  to  find  full  sympathy  or  cordial  furtherance  in  any  con- 
temporary time. 

It  may  be  urged  that  Shakespeare  should  have  had  enough 
strength  of  character  to  have  resisted,  opposed,  overcome  enmity. 
I  do  not  think  that  it  was  so.  He  would  not  be  defiant  or  pugna- 
cious. He  would  rather 

"  Suffer  and  be  still." 

Temperament  has  more  to  do  than  has  character  with  active 
resistance,  or  with  callous  indifference.  Temperament,  which  is 
half  physical,  half  mental,  underlies  all  character,  and  yet  over- 
rides it.  We  may  mould  or  alter  character,  but  we  can  never 
escape  from  our  inborn  temperament.  Shakespeare  would  seem 
to  have  been  of  a  nervous-lymphatic  temperament,  and  he  would 
be,  to  a  great  extent,  animated  by  the  good-will,  and  depressed  by 
the  enmity  of  men.  He  would  be,  in  some  measure,  dependent 
upon  friendly  surroundings  for  the  joy  with  which  he  would 
exercise  his  art.  Sympathy  would  be  of  importance  to  him  ; 
although  when  working  at  a  white  heat  of  passionate  rapture,  in  a 
glow  of  feeling,  of  imagination  all  compact,  he  might  not,  during 
the  inspired  hour,  feel  the  want  of  it.  Such  profound  humour  as 
he  possessed  is  only  granted  to  a  nature  which  contains  a  strong 
strain  of  melancholy.  His  heart  would  be  very  vulnerable  ;  and 
he  would  feel  too  finely,  too  keenly,  to  have  very  much  of  that 
rough  hardihood  of  character  which  supports  and  uplifts  a 
coarser  man  against  the  attacks  of  cruelty,  the  injuries  of  enmity, 
or  the  insults  of  malignity.  He  could  not  be  insensible  to  ill- 
judgment  or  to  ill-will. 

Modest  and  gentle  as  Shakespeare  assuredly  was,  he  yet  could 
not  be  without  pride  —  without  a  just  and  manly  pride.  That 
delicate  sentiment  of  fine  genius,  that  superb  honour  of  noble 
character,  would  restrain  him  from  any  efforts  of  calculation,  or  of 

o  2 


i;8  THE    THE  A  TRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886. 

address,  or  policy,  to  advance  his  interests,  to  win  favour,  or  to 
flatter  fortune.  He  could  not  stoop  to  any  art  or  artifices  to  push 
himself  forward.  His  enemies  might  sadden,  or  even  embitter 
him,  but  could  scarcely  provoke  him  to  acts  of  anger  or  to  mani- 
festations of  hostility.  We  can  never  now  exactly  know  them, 
but  how  great  must  have  been  his  sorrows  and  struggles  in  the 
early  part  of  his  upward  career !  And  his  youthful  difficulties 
would  be  all  the  greater  because  he  certainly  would  never 

"  Crook  the  pregnant  hinges  of  the  knee 
Where  thrift  might  follow  fawning." 

We  may  well  hope  that  he  was  one  of  those  blest  ones 

"  Whose  blood  and  judgment  are  so  well  commingled, 
That  they  are  not  a  pipe  for  fortune's  finger 
To  sound  what  stop  she  pleases." 

And  yet  the  fact  that  he  wrote  these  very  lines  may  suggest  a 
doubt  whether  he  did  not,  in  some  degree,  suffer  from  lack  of  the 
very  quality  which  he  esteemed  so  highly.  The  "  sense  of  tears 
in  mortal  things"  is  stirred  when  we  contemplate  the  indignities 
and  trials  which  probably  surrounded  the  first  efforts  of  the 
Warwickshire  youth  to  unfold  himself,  to  acquire  a  sure  footing  in 
a  then  London  play-house. 

"  Whatever  is  too  original  will  be  hated  at  the  first.  It  must 
slowly  mould  a  public  for  itself ;  and  the  resistance  of  the  early, 
thoughtless  judgments  must  be  overcome  by  a  counter  resistance 
to  itself  in  a  better  audience  slowly  mustering  against  the  first." 
So  says  De  Quincey ;  and  it  is  easy  to  imagine  that,  in  his  early 
dramatic  tentatives,  Shakespeare  must  have  met  with  opposition 
and  obstruction  from  managers,  brother  dramatists,  and  even 
from  audiences.  His  upward  path  must  have  been,  in  his  earlier 
years  in  London,  one  of  extreme  and  painful  difficulty.  He  must 
have  had  cause  for  disappointment,  almost  for  despair ;  and 
nothing  but  the  sublime  persistency  of  self-confident  genius  could 
have  enabled  him  to  make  head  against  such  a  sea  of  troubles. 

In  his  objective  day  all  criticisms  were  oral.  There  were  no 
journals,  and  there  was  no  written  criticism,  and  there  were  no 
critics  by  profession.  The  criticism  on  the  Elizabethan  drama 
was  the  reverberation  of  an  audience.  He  would,  no  doubt,  in 
the  absence  of  written  criticism,  miss  some  sympathy,  and  some 
furtherance  ;  but  he  would  escape  the  weak,  indifferent  editor,  who 
would  allow  a  rival  or  an  enemy  to  wreak  a  spite.  He  would  never 


APRIL  i,  1886.]  DISCONTENTS  OF  A  DRAMITIST.  179 

have  suffered  under  the  coarse  personality  editor,  who,  unable  to 
criticise,  would  have  wantonly  attacked  the  dramatist,  and  would 
have  substituted  for  comprehension  gross  and  groundless  personal 
abuse,  based  upon  a  false  imputation  of  mean'motives  for  writing. 
From  such  outrages  Shakespeare  was  saved  by  the  conditions  of  a 
nobler,  si  mpler,  manlier  time. 

Posterity  has  done  so  much  to  redress  any  wrongs  inflicted  upon 
our  great  poet  by  his  contemporaries,  that  we  are  apt  to  overlook 
the  sore  difficulties  with  which  he  doubtless  had  to  struggle.     We 
do  not  now  often  stop  to   consider   those  efforts  to    injure   and 
oppress  him  which  must  have  made  his  early  time  so  painful,  so 
disappointing,  and  so  bitter  to  him.     Judging  by  the  allusions  in 
his  writings,  his  must  have  been  a  dignified  sorrow,  nobly  borne. 
He  would  seem  to  have  followed  the  injunction  of  the  Psalmist,  to 
"  Leave  off  from  wrath  and  let  go  displeasure  :    fret  not   thyself, 
else  shalt  thou  be  moved  to  do  evil."     He  lived  down  all  enmity, 
and  probably  became  stronger  from  suffering.      All  the  machina- 
tions of  his  enemies  have  long  ago  sunk  to  sleep  and  faded  into 
forgetfulness.    It  is  only  when  we  consider  curiously  the  few  traces 
that  we  can  find  of  his  feeling  and  his  life  that  we  attain  to  a  hint 
and  glimpse  of  the  sorrows  that  once  must  have  encompassed 
Shakespeare's  nobly  tender  spirit.     The  lightning  of  unjust  and 
unworthy  enmity  dies  out  within  its  cloud.      It  is  now  time  to 
adduce  certain  passages  which  seem  to  elucidate  the  point  which 
we  are  immediately  considering.     Considerations  of  space  restrict 
me  to  a  few  suggestive  illustrations.      There  are  both  the  discon- 
tents of  the  dramatist  and  the  sorrows  of  the  man,  and  we  can  find 
.allusions     which     throw    light    upon    this    dual    sadness.       In 
"  Hamlet  " — the  play  which,  perhaps,  contains  the  largest  quantity 
•of  self-revelation — we  find  that  the  company  of  players  to  which 
Burbage  and  Shakespeare  belonged,  the  tragedians  of  the  city, 
•had  been  compelled  to  travel  "  by  the  means  of  the  late  innova- 
tion,"  that  is,   in  consequence  of  a  company  of  children-actors 
({.boys,  of  course)  having  drawn  the  town  away  from  those  established 
tragedians,  "  whose  endeavour  kept  in  the  wonted  pace."      The 
sorrowful  dramatist,  indignant  at  the  fickleness  and  ignorance  of 
audiences,  tells  us,  through  Rosencrantz,  that  there  is  "  an  eyrie 
of  children,  little  eyases,  that  cry  out  on  the  top   of  question,  and 
.are  most  tyrannically  clapped  for  't :  these  are  now  the  fashion,  and 
.so  berattle   the  common  stages  (so  they  call  them),  that  many 


i8o  THE  THEA  TRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886. 

wearing  rapiers  are  afraid  of  goose  quills,  and  dare  scarce  come 
thither." 

The  children-players  and  their  unmerited  success  had  irritated 
the  manager  as  well  ^as  pained  the  dramatist ;  but  the  dramatist 
alone  speaks,  the  dramatist  who  had  learned  to  dread  "  slander, 
censure  rash,"  in  the  following  allusion  to  a  play  :— 

"  The  play,  I  remember,  pleased  not  the  million  ;  'twas  caviare 
to  the  general :  but  it  was — as  I  received  it,  and  others,  whose 
judgements  in  such  matters  cried  in  the  top  of  mine — an  excellent 
play,  well  digested  in  the  scenes,  set  down  with  as  much  modesty 
as  cunning.  I  remember,  one  said  there  were  no  sallets  in  the 
lines  to  make  the  matter  savoury,  nor  no  matter  in  the  phrase 
that  might  indict  the  author  of  affection ;  but  called  it  an 
honest  method,  as  wholesome  as  sweet,  and  by  very  much  more 
handsome  than  fine." 

The  only  question  for  us  now  would  seem  to  be  :  To  which  of 
Shakespeare's  plays  was  such  criticism  applied  ?  That  he  had 
had  the  grief  of  hearing  such  remarks  applied  to  a  play  of  his,, 
which  he  well  knew  to  be  good,  is  surely  clear.  He,  too,  may 
have  suffered  from  "  the  groundlings,  who,  for  the  most  part,  are 
capable  of  nothing  but  inexplicable  dumb-show  and  noise."  He 
had  heard,  with  pain,  the  laugh  of  the  unskilful ;  and  he  had  more 
than  once  seen,  with  disgust,  the  clown  try  "  to  set  on  some 
quantity  of  barren  spectators  to  laugh  too,  though  in  the  mean- 
time some  necessary  question  of  the  play  be  then  to  be  con- 
sidered :  that's  villanous." 

Many  things  would — at  least,  in  his  earlier  career — conspire  to- 
rob  Shakespeare  of  that  calm,  glad  temper  of  mind  in  which  such 
work  as  his  ought  to  be  performed.  The  adventitious  in  life 
could  scarcely  work  in  favour  of  a  man  like  Shakespeare,  and  the 
wonder  is  that,  through  so  many  lets  and  hindrances,  he  could  do 
the  work  that  he  did  as  he  did  it.  To  turn  to  another  source  of 
regret,  which  does  not  so  directly  affect  the  dramatist,  let 
us  recite  the  thoughts  which  have  been  given  to  the  Prince  of 
Arragon — 

"  Who  shall  go  about 
To  cozen  fortune  and  be  honourable 
Without  the  stamp  of  merit  ?      Let  none  presume 
To  wear  an  undeserved  dignity. 
Oh  !  that  estates,  degrees,  and  offices 
Were  not  derived  corruptly,  and  that  clear  honour 


APRIL  i,  1886]  DISCONTENTS  OF  A  DRAMATIST.  181 

Were  purchased  by  the  merit  of  the  wearer ! 

How  many  then  should  cover  that  stand  bare ! 

How  many  be  commanded  that  command  ! 

How  much  low  peasantry  would  then  be  glean 'd 

From  the  true  seed  of  honour  !     And  how  much  honour 

Pick'd  from  the  chaff  and  ruin  of  the  times 

To  be  new  varnished  !" 

Had  Shakespeare  never  "  stood  bare  "  while  meaner  men  stood 
covered  before  him  ?  Had  he  not  felt  that  clear  honour  was  not 
always  purchased  by  the  merit  of  the  wearer  ?  Had  he  never 
been  commanded  when  he  should  have  commanded?  WHS 
there  no  sad  bitterness  in  his  heart  as  he  realised  the  truth  that 
merit  cannot  reckon  in  this  world  upon  the  meed  that  it  is  worthy 
of? 

That  Weltschmerz — that  life  sadness,  born  of  the  contrast  be- 
tween the  facts  and  the  ideals  of  life,  which  is  felt  by  every  noble 
and  imaginative  mind — must  have  been  felt  with  singular  force  by 
Shakespeare.  Let  us  try  to  get  at  his  feelings  through  a  few  ex- 
tracts from  the  sonnets.  If  the  Prince  of  Arragon  were  known  to 
have  been  a  sonneteer,  he  might  have  written— 

"  When,  in  disgrace  with  fortune  and  men's  eyes, 

I  all  alone  beweep  my  outcast  state, 
And  trouble  deaf  Heaven  with  my  bootless  cries, 

And  look  upon  myself  and  curse  my  fate, 
Wishing  me  like  to  one  more  rich  in  hope, 

Featur'd  like  him — like  him  with  friends  possess'd, 
Desiring  this  man's  art  and  that  man's  scope, 

With  what  I  most  enjoy  contented  least." 


"  When  to  the  sessions  of  sweet  silent  thought, 
I  summon  up  remembrance  of  things  past  ; 
I  sigh  the  lack  of  many  a  thing  I  sought, 
And  with  old  woes  now  wail  my  dear  time's  waste. 

"  Then  can  I  grieve  at  grievances  foregone, 
And  heavily  from  woe  to  woe,  tell  oe'r 
The  sad  account  of  fore-bemoaned  moan, 
Which  I  new  pay  as  if  not  paid  before. 

"  Let  those  who  are  in  favour  with  their  stars, 
Of  public  honour  and  proud  titles  boast ; 
Whilst  I,  whom  fortune  of  such  triumph  bars, 
Unlook'd  for  joy  in  that  I  honour  most." 


;  Tired  with  all  these,  for  restful  death  I  cry — 

As,  to  behold  desert  a  beggar  born  ; 
And  needy  nothing  trimmed  in  jollity, 
And  purest  faith  unhappily  forsworn, 


182  THE  THEATRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886. 

And  gilded  honour  shamefully  misplaced, 

And  maiden  virtue  rudely  strumpeted, 
And  right  perfection  wrongfully  disgraced, 

And  strength  by  limping  sway  disabled, 
And  art  made  tongue-tied  by  authority, 

And  folly,  doctor-like,  controlling  skill, 
And  simple  truth  miscalled  simplicity, 

And  captive  Good  attending  captain  111." 

So  far  our  extracts  from  the  sonnets  have  shown  the  abstract 
sorrows  of  the  man  ;  but  the  following  passages  express  particu- 
larly the  griefs  of  the  poor  player — of  the  dramatist  :— 

"  Alas!  'tis  true,  I  have  gone  here  and  there, 
And  made  myself  a  motley  to  the  view, 
Gored  my  own  thoughts,  sold  cheap  what  is  most  dear — 
Made  old  offences  of  affections  new. 

"  Oh  !  for  my  sake  do  you  with  fortune  chide 

The  guilty  goddess  of  my  harmful  deeds, 
That  did  not  better  for  my  life  provide, 

Than  public  means  which  public  manners  breeds. 
Thence  comes  it  that  my  name  receives  a  brand, 

And  almost  thence  my  nature  is  subdued 
To  what  it  works  in — like  the  dyer's  hand." 

Shakespeare  was,  I  think,  cavalier  rather  than  Bohemian,  and 
his  gentle  nature  would  be  by  no  means  specially  suited  by  the 
life  of  the  play-house.  Chance  seems  to  have  impelled  him  into 
that  walk  of  life  which,  while  it  afforded  him  full  opportunity  for 
the  development  of  his  rare  genius,  was  yet  repugnant  to  his  per- 
sonal tastes  and  feelings.  As  an  actor  he  did  not  rise  into  the 
very  first  rank,  and  he  may  have  loved  "  the  cunning  of  the 
scene"  rather  than  the  acting  of  it.  He  can  never  have  known, 
in  his  own  person,  the  greatest  joys  and  triumphs  of  the  actor's 
art.  With  him,  the  maker  of  plays  over-rode  the  player  of  them  ; 
and  it  seems  likely  that  his  personal  tastes  and  habits  were  re- 
tiring, quiet,  modest.  The  contrast,  in  the  day  of  Elizabeth, 
between  noble  or  gentle  and  the  player  or  playwright  would 
indeed  be  sharp  ;  and  Shakespeare's  sympathies  were  probably 
rather  with  Southampton  or  Rutland  than  with  Tarleton  or  even 
Burbage.  He  would  seem  to  have  disliked  making  himself  a 
"  motley  to  the  view,"  or  exposing  himself  to  sneers  against 
"  Shake-scene."  May  it  not  well  be  that  he  would  have  preferred 
another  life  than  that  in  the  play-house  ?  True  it  is  that  his  loss 
is  our  gain  ;  and  that,  however  little  he  may — apart  from  art 
joy  in  writing — have  loved  the  player's  life,  we  yet,  by  means 
which  were  sorrowful  to  him,  have  got  the  most  out  of  his  genius 


APRIL  i,  1886.]  DISCONTENTS  OF  A  DRAMATIST.  183 

and  his  labours.  We  can  only  advance  hypotheses  about  his 
career ;  we  cannot  know  whether  irresistible  impulse  or  simple 
chance  drove  him  first  into  the  play-house.  But  if  it  were  what 
we  call  "  chance,"  then  certainly  the  interests  of  the  world  were 
rarely  served  by  chance. 

"  What  trait  of  his  private  mind  has  he  hidden  in  his  dramas  ?  " 
We  have  seen  something  of  his  personal  and  dramatist  discontents, 
but  his  plays  also  show  us  some  of  the  things  that  he  loved.  To 
take  only  one  point.  He  clearly  felt  a  loving  tenderness  for  such 
characters  as  Bassanio,  Orlando,  Ferdinand — for  those  noble 
youths,  honourable,  gentle,  brave,  courteous,  chivalrous,  who 
were  the  precursors  of  Walter  Scott's  cadets.  For  them,  as  for 
his  pure  and  tender  women,  he  cannot  conceal  his  sympathy 
and  affection.  His  "  shaping  spirit  of  imagination "  delights 
visibly  in  all  honour  and  courage  in  man ;  in  all  divine  love  and 
devotion  in  noble,  ideal  women.  Manners,  too,  are  fine  symbols 
of  inward  nobleness  which  he  always  finely  and  lovingly  depicts. 

"  Leave  this  hypocritical  prating  about  the  masses.  Masses 
are  rude,  lame,  unmade,  pernicious  in  their  demands,  and  need 
not  to  be  flattered,  but  to  be  schooled.  I  wish  not  to  concede 
anything  to  them,  but  to  tame,  drill,  divide,  and  break  them  up, 
and  draw  individuals  out  of  them."  So  says  the  American, 
Emerson  ;  and  Shakespeare  scorned  and  hated— 

"  The  blunt  monster  with  uncounted  heads — the  still-discordant, 
wavering  multitude."  He — the  author  of  "Julius  Caesar,"  of 
"Coriolanus" — would  never  have  favoured  any  loose  or  wanton  ex- 
tension of  the  franchise.  He  tendered  too  dearly  national  honour 
and  greatness  in  the  England  which  he  loved  so  well.  The  throng 
of  citizens  want  first  to  give  to  Brutus  a  statue  with  his  ancestors, 
and  then  find,  directly  afterwards,  that  there's  not  a  nobler  man 
in  Rome  than  Antony.  The  mutinous  citizens  would  kill 
Caius  Marcius,  and  have  corn  at  their  own  price,  and  either  they 
must 

"  Confess  yourselves  wondrous  malicious, 
Or  be  accused  of  folly." 

It  is  good  sometimes  to  consider  carefully  some  one  special 
point  in  connection  with  our  Shakespeare.  We  have  touched, 
even  if  imperfectly,  upon  one  phase  of  his  working  and  his  life. 
We  have  been  trying  to  glance  at  the  silent  sorrows  and  struggles 
of  a  transcendent  genius,  whose  workings  were  limited  by  the 


184  THE  THEATRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886. 

conditions  of  life  and  work  in  even  an  Elizabethan  play-house. 
How  often  must  he  have  seen  lower  men  and  inferior  plays  pre- 
ferred before  him  and  his  work  ?  And  yet  he  remains  victor,  con- 
queror, sovereign,  if  it  were  only  in  virtue  of  his  power  of  vision 
and  his  tendency  to  excuse  and  pity  all  the  wrongs  inflicted  upon 
supreme  but  patient  merit. 

Shakespeare  is  the  sun  of  our  English  literature.  It  is  the  sun  which 
tells  us  the  true  time,  but  yet  indicates  a  different  hour  in  differently 
placed  places  ;  and  Shakespeare,  now  recognised  as  the  "  crown 
o'  the  world,"  finds  in  Germany  the  reverent  insight  of  Goethe, 
finds  in  France  the  freakish  rhodomontade  of  Voltaire.  Small 
wonder  that  our  Shakespeare  should  have  to  wait  long  for  recogni- 
tion, that  he  should  have  seen  lowlier  merit  acknowledged  before 
his  turn  came.  The  hour  hand  moves  more  slowly  than  the 
minute  hand.  The  great  man  has  most  to  expect  from  the  slow 
justice  of  dragging  time.  We  may  say  that  the  depravity  of 
public  taste,  the  opposition  of  malignity,  affected  Shakespeare 
rather  with  a' feeling  of  sad  indignation  than  a  sense  of  permanent 
injury.  But  for  the  trouble  with  Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  it  may  be  that 
'*  the  woods  and  skies,  the  rustic  life  of  man  in  Stratford  there* 
had  been  enough  for  this  man."  "  I  fancy  there  is  in  him  the 
politician,  the  thinker,  legislator,  philosopher ;  in  one  or  the  other 
degree  he  could  have  been,  he  is  all  these." 

We  cannot  waste  half-an-hour  in  thus  thinking  of,  speaking 
together  about  our  peerless  Shakespeare,  since  he  is  "  the  grandest 
thing  we  have  yet  done."  To  him  was  given  that  diviner 
inspiration  in  which  we  may  recognise  "  the  pomp  and  prodigality 
of  Heaven." 


APRIL  i,  i88d]  BRESSANT.  185 


Bressant. 

BY  CHARLES  HERVEY. 

NO  one,  it  is  presumable,  will  be  inclined  to  dispute  the  fact 
that  those  endowed  with  rare  personal  advantages  have  a 
better  chance  of  making  their  way  in  the  world  than  usually  falls 
to  the  lot  of  others  less  favourably  handicapped  by  nature.  On 
the  stage  especially  a  prepossessing  exterior,  if  not  absolutely  a 
passport  to  success,  may  at  least  be  regarded  as  no  unimportant 
auxiliary  towards  attaining  it ;  and,  provided  that  its  possessor's 
"  ramage,"  to  quote  La  Fontaine,  be  on  a  par  with  his  "  plumage,'* 
he  may  fairly  anticipate  that  his  future  will  be  comparatively  plain 
sailing.  With  both  these  requisites,  physical  and  artistic,  the 
excellent  comedian  forming  the  subject  of  the  present  paper  was 
eminently  gifted  ;  he  had,  moreover — a  rarity  among  his  theatrical 
compatriots — the  air  and  manners  of  a  perfect  gentleman,  and  in 
this  respect  reminded  one  of  his  celebrated  contemporary,  Lafont. 
Indeed,  were  I  asked  whether  that  renowned  lady-killer  or  Bres- 
sant best  deserved  the  title  of  "  1'homme  du  monde  egare  au 
theatre,"  I  should  be  disposed  to  reply  like  the  tailor  when  sum- 
moned to  decide  between  the  claims  to  fashionable  supremacy  of 
the  Prince  Regent  and  Beau  Brummell,  and  give  the  latter  "  a 
trifle  the  preference." 

If  credit  maybe  attached  to  a  report  current  in  dramatic  circles, 
the  father  of  Jean  Baptiste  Frangois  Bressant  was  a  member  of 
an  ancient  patrician  family;  of  his  mother,  who  apparently 
belonged  to  a  lower  class  of  society,  little  or  nothing  is  known. 
It  is,  however,  certain  that  from  his  earliest  youth  he  was  entirely 
dependent  on  her  for  his  maintenance  ;  for  we  find  him,  when 
barely  fifteen  years  old,  occupying  the  humble  position  of  "  saute- 
ruisseau,"  or  half-clerk,  half-errand  boy  in  an  attorney's  office, 
which,  after  a  few  months'  trial,  he  exchanged  for  that  of 
assistant  in  the  shop  of  a  picture  dealer.  There  he  had  more 
leisure  for  the  study  of  his  favourite  authors,  Corneille  and  Racine, 


186  THE  THEATRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886. 

and  nothing  pleased  him  better  than  to  find  some  one  indulgent 
enough  to  listen  to  his  declamatory  efforts,  and  encourage  him  to 
cultivate  a  talent  already  rich  in  promise,  and  rendered  still  more 
attractive  by  the  charm  of  a  melodious  and  exquisitely  sympathetic 
voice. 

Chance  made  him  acquainted  with  Casimir  Bonjour,  author  of 
"  Le  Mari  a  Bonnes  Fortunes,"  and  other  estimable  comedies 
now  almost  forgotten,  but  popular  in  their  day.  Struck  with  the 
young  man's  impassioned  delivery  and  graceful  bearing,  he  dis- 
patched him  with  a  letter  to  Michelot,  of  the  Comedie  Frangaise, 
one  of  the  best  dramatic  professors  of  his  time,  strongly  recom- 
mending his  protege  as  a  pupil  who  only  required  the  necessary 
instruction  to  do  credit  to  any  master.  Michelot  smiled  as  he 
read  this  epistle,  and  glanced  attentively  at  the  bearer. 

"  How  old  are  you  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Nearly  seventeen." 

"Ah!  too  young  for  admission  to  the  Conservatoire.  Never 
mind,"  he  added  kindly,  noticing  the  applicant's  look  of  disap- 
pointment, "  we  must  do  what  we  can  without  it.  Come  again 
to-morrow,  and,  if  I  think  I  can  make  anything  of  you,  there  is  a 
vacancy  in  my  private  class,  and  you  shall  fill  it." 

Two  months  later,  while  diligently  prosecuting  his  studies, 
Bressant  was  offered  an  engagement  by  the  brothers  Seveste,  who 
at  that  period  enjoyed  the  monopoly  of  managing  the  three  or 
four  theatres  situated  in  the  "  banlieue,"  and  asked  Michelot  if  he 
ought  to  accept  it. 

"  By  all  means,"  said  the  professor.  "  You  will  have  plenty  of 
practice,  which  is  precisely  what  you  want,  and  you  will  learn 
more  there  than  I  can  teach  you." 

His  first  essay  was  at  Montmartre,  where  he  soon  found  that, 
if  practice  makes  perfect,  he  was  destined  to  have  an  ample  share 
of  it.  The  constant  change  of  performances,  entailing  on  the 
very  limited  company  the  assumption  of  every  kind  of  part  at  the 
shortest  notice,  speedily  familiarised  him  with  the  routine  of 
theatrical  life ;  and  being  naturally  blessed — like  Mr.  Lenville,  of 
nose-pulling  memory — with  a  "  quick  study,"  he  was  looked  upon 
by  the  management  as  a  precious  recruit,  and  utilised  accordingly. 
His  connection,  however,  with  the  "  banlieue  "  was  not  of  long 
duration.  Among  the  members  of  the  troupe  was  a  certain  Prosper 
Gothi,  a  low  comedian  of  some  humour,  of  whom  such  flattering 


APRIL  i,  1886.]  BRESSANT.  187 

reports  had  come  to  the  ears  of  M.  Dartois,  then  director  of  the 
Varietes,  that  he  came  one  evening  to  Montmartre  for  the  express 
purpose  of  seeing  him  act.  On  this  occasion  Bressant  happened 
to  be  cast  a  part  which  exactly  suited  him  ;  and  Dartois,  charmed 
with  his  good  looks,  and  determined  not  to  miss  the  opportunity 
of  securing  for  his  theatre  so' agreeable  a  representative  of  young 
lovers,  at  once  engaged  him  at  a  salary  of  a  hundred  francs  a 
month.  Prosper  Gothi  was  likewise  approved  and  enlisted,  and 
the  brothers  Seveste  were  thus  deprived  at  one  fell  swoop  of  the 
only  two  actors  who  had  succeeded  in  establishing  themselves  in 
the  good  graces  of  the  public  of  Montmartre. 

For  some  time  after  his  promotion  to  the  Varietes,  Bressant's 
position  was  by  no  means  an  enviable  one.  His  manager, 
anxious  as  he  appeared  to  add  him  to  his  company,  neglected  to 
profit  by  his  acquisition,  and,  beyond  entrusting  him  with  an 
unimportant  part  in  a  piece  which  only  lived  a  few  nights,  allowed 
him  to  vegetate  in  complete  obscurity.  Finding  himself  thus 
unaccountably  shelved,  Michelot's  pupil  applied  For  a  short  leave 
of  absence,  which  was  readily  accorded,  him,  and  gladly  accepted 
the  proposal  of  Perlet  to  accompany  him  on  a  professional  visit  to 
London,  among  his  fellow-travellers  being  the  charming  Jenny 
Colon,  "  biondina  e  grassotta,"  as  Theophile  Gautier  has  it. 
After  a  tolerably  successful  campaign  of  a  few  weeks  he  returned 
to  his  post  early  in  1833 ;  and,  although  failing  to  please  the 
critics  in  "  Les  Amours  de  Paris,"  made  a  decided  hit  as  Beppo 
in  "  La  Prima  Donna." 

From  that  evening  his  merit  as  a  young  actor  of  the  greatest 
promise  was  universally  recognised ;  his  co-operation  in  forth- 
coming novelties  was  insisted  on  by  the  leading  authors  of  the 
day,  and  Dartois'  brother,  more  keen-sighted  than  the  manager, 
and  who  had  taken  a  fancy  to  him  from  the  beginning,  enthu- 
siastically declared  that  the  "  lad  "  would  be  a  fortune  to  the 
theatre.  Bressant's  crowning  triumph,  the  Prince  of  \Yales  in 
"  Kean,"  by  the  side  of  Frederick  Lemaitre,  attracted  the  notice 
of  the  committee  of  the  Comedie  Fransaise,  and  an  engagement 
was  offered  him,  which  fell  through,  owing  to  an  inconsiderate  act 
of  his  own,  which  he  afterwards  bitterly  repented.  Always  sus- 
ceptible where  the  fair  sex  was  concerned,  he  had  recently 
married  Mdlle.  Augustine  Dupont,  an  actress  of  moderate  ability, 
and  daughter  of  the  chef  de  claque  of  the  Varietes ;  and,  fearing 


l88  THE   THEATRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886. 

that  his  departure  might  possibly  affect  the  receipts  of  that 
theatre,  and  as  a  natural  consequence  the  interests  of  his  father- 
in-law,  declined  to  accept  the  proposal,  pleading  his  minority  as  a 
sufficient  reason  for  refusing  it.  As  it  unluckily  turned  out,  the 
union  was  in  no  respect  a  happy  one.  Constant  bickerings  arose 
between  husband  and  wife;  and  at. length,  seeing  no  prospect 
before  him  of  domestic  tranquillity,  he  entered  into  negotiations 
with  General  Guedeonoff,  director  of  the  French  theatre  in  St. 
Petersburg,  and  secretly  started  for  Russia,  thereby  subjecting 
himself  to  a  fine  of  twenty  thousand  francs,  for  the  payment  of 
which  the  imperial  treasury  became  ultimately  responsible. 

The  capital  of  the  Czar  was  at  that  period  regarded  by  Parisian 
actors  as  an   El  Dorado  difficult   of  access,  but  a  land  of  inex- 
haustible plenty  for  the  chosen  few.     The  theatre,  almost  exclu- 
sively patronised  by  the  Court  and  nobility,  rivalled  the  Comedie 
Franchise  in  the  excellence  of  its  company,  including  such  well- 
known    celebrities    as    Paul     (the    ex-"  jeune-premier "    of    the 
Gymnase),  Volnys  and  his  accomplished  wife,  and  Madame  Allan- 
Despreaux.      Bressant,    whose   arrival    had   been    preceded    by 
whispered  reports  of  his  talent  and  personal  attractions,  indus- 
triously circulated  by  the  astute  Guedeonoff,  was  received  with 
marked  favour,  and  soon  found  himself  in  the  enjoyment  of  a 
popularity  which  his  artistic  merits,    undeniable   as   they  were, 
perhaps  hardly  justified.     The  ladies  with  one  accord  voted  him 
charming,    and    their    approval     once    secured,    whether    their 
husbands — more    sceptically   inclined    as   a    rule — were    equally 
enthusiastic,  or  the  reverse,  mattered  little.     Such,  at  least,  was 
the  opinion  of  the  new  comer,  who,  during  his  long  sojourn  at 
St.    Petersburg,   made   it    his   especial    business   to    please    his 
patronesses ;  and  in  some   respects,  as  it  happened,  succeeded 
only  too  well.     Unlike  the  majority  of  his  colleagues,  who  saved 
up  all  they  could  of  their  earnings  as  a  provision  for  the  future, 
he  lived   in  a  style  which   even  his  very  liberal  salary  scarcely 
warranted,  and  allowed  no  prudential  considerations  to  interfere 
with  the  gratification  of  a  passing  whim.     Flattered,  moreover, 
by  the  undisguised  preference,  of  which  he  was  the  object,  on  the 
part  of  certain  high-born  dames,  he  appears  to  have  responded 
somewhat  too  readily  to  their  advances ;  and  on  one  particular 
occasion  to  have  embarked  in  an  adventure  which — according  to 
rumour,  for  he  himself  was  always  loyally  discreet  on  the  subject — 


APRIL  i,  1886.]  BRESSANT.  189 

ultimately  drew  upon  him  the  displeasure  of  the  Court,  and 
abruptly  terminated  his  career  in  the  city  of  the  Neva. 

Returning  home  from  a  bear  hunt  late  in  the  afternoon,  he  was 
informed  that  ah  officer  of  the  Imperial  household  awaited  his 
arrival,  and  lost  no  time  in  obeying  the  summons.  His  visitor 
saluted  him  with  grave  courtesy. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  said,  "I  am  charged  to  deliver  into  your  hands 
a  sum  of  ten  thousand  silver  roubles.  A  carriage  is  at  the  door 
ready  to  conduct  you  to  Paris,  and  you  are  enjoined  to  proceed 
on  your  journey  without  a  moment's  delay." 

"  But,  Monsieur,"  objected  Bressant,  disagreeably  startled  by 
this  unexpected  communication,  "  I  have  debts  and  other  matters 
to  settle  before  leaving  St.  Petersburg,  and " 

"  You  need  not  trouble  yourself  on  that  score,"  interrupted  the 
officer.  "  Whatever  you  owe  here  will  be  paid  after  your 
departure." 

"  At  least,  allow  me  time  to  pack  my  trunks." 

"  That  is  unnecessary.  All  your  belongings  will  be  sent  to  any 
address  you  think  proper  to  give.  Besides,  you  will  find  in  the 
carriage  everything  you  are  likely  to  want  until  you  reach  Paris." 

Bressant  did  not  venture  to  say  that  he  wished  to  pay  some 
farewell  visits  preparatory  to  starting,  comprehending  that  any 
discussion  on  this  head  would  be  worse  than  useless ;  but, 
resigning  himself  to  the  inevitable,  was  on  his  road  to  France 
before  nightfall. 

My  personal  knowledge  of  this  excellent  comedian  dates  from 
his  appearance  at  the  Gymnase,  February  21,  1846,  in  "  Georges 
et  Maurice,"  since  which  period,  until  nearly  the  close  of  his 
professional  career,  I  rarely  missed  an  opportunity  of  witnessing 
the  gradual  development  of  his  talents,  first  as  jeunc  premier  and 
subsequently  as  premier  role.  The  acquisition  of  so  brilliant  a 
recruit  was  of  inestimable  advantage  to  M.  Montigny's  company, 
already  one  of  the  best  in  Paris,  and  including  such  popular 
favourites  as  Numa,  Ferville,  Lafontaine,  Lesueur,  Mdlles.  Rose 
Cheri  and  Desiree.  Nowhere  could  his  graceful  ease  of  manner 
and  pleasant  geniality  have  been  more  thoroughly  appreciated 
than  in  a  theatre,  the  habitual  frequenters  of  which  had  an  instinc- 
tive horror  of  anything  approaching  coarseness  or  vulgarity,  while 
keenly  relishing  that  mixture  of  gaiety  and  sentiment  which 
formed  the  leading  feature  of  the  nightly  bill  of  fare.  It  was  not, 


igo  THE     THEATRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886. 

however,  until  the  production  of  "  Clarisse  Harlowe,"  in  August 
of  the  same  year,  that  he  fairly  took  the  town  by  storm.  His 
Lovelace  was  a  revelation,  and  proved  that,  if  he  had  hitherto 
displayed  every  requisite  qualification  for  light  comedy,  he 
was  equally  excellent  in  drama.  He  had,  moreover,  the  excep- 
tional good  fortune  of  being  associated  in  this  piece  with  Rose 
Cheri,  than  whom  a  more  exquisitely  sympathetic  representative 
of  the  heroine  could  not  have  been  desired ;  and,  thanks  to  their 
joint  attractions,  the  adaptation  of  Richardson's  masterpiece 
enjoyed  a  long  and  profitable  run. 

Of  the  forty-two  original  "  creations  "  by  Bressant  during  his 
stay  at  the  Gymnase,  from  1846  to  1854,  those  which,  after  Love- 
lace, most  advanced  his  reputation,  were  unquestionably  the 
following  : — "  La  Protegee  sans  le  Savoir,"  "  Horace  et  Caroline,' 
"  Le  Canotier,"  "  Le  Piano  de  Berthe,"  "  Un  Fils  de  Famille," 
"  Philiberte,"  and  "  Diane  de  Lys."  In  all  these  he  was  charm- 
ing, and,  as  M.  Francisque  Sarcey  truly  remarks,  might  have 
continued  for  another  ten  years  to  delight  the  public  of  the 
Boulevard  Bonne-Nouvelle,  had  not  fate,  in  the  person  of  an  all- 
powerful  minister,  willed  otherwise.  In  direct  opposition  to  the 
established  regulations  of  the  Comcdie  Fran9aise  he  was  named 
societaire  of  that  theatre,  without  the  obligation  of  passing  through 
the  intermediate  stage  of  pensionnaire,  a  somewhat  arbitrary  pro- 
ceeding, but  against  which  there  was  no  appeal.  His  future 
colleagues  naturally  resented  this  infraction  of  their  privileges ; 
and  Brindeau,  who  had  more  cause  than  others  to  dread  the 
coming  of  so  dangerous  a  rival,  at  once  sent  in  his  resignation, 
which,  doubtless  to  his  secret  mortification,  was  immediately 
accepted. 

The  debut  of  the  new  "  societaire  "  took  place  February  6, 1854, 
as  the  hero  of  "  Mon  Etoile,"  a  one-act  comedy,  written  expressly 
for  the  occasion  by  Scribe,  and  as  Clitandre  in  "  Les  Femmes 
Savantes  ;"  in  the  first  his  success  was  complete,  but  in  the  second 
he  failed  altogether.  Such  a  result  might  have  been  anticipated 
in  the  case  of  any  actor  who,  accustomed  to  the  dialogue  of  con- 
temporary writers,  finds  himself  suddenly  called  upon  to  interpret 
the  language  of  Moliere  without  previous  experience  of  its  diffi- 
culties, and  wholly  unacquainted  with  the  traditional  mode  of 
delivery  and  intonation.  No  one  recognised  his  incompetency 
more  readily  than  himself;  once  convinced  that  a  course  of  hard 


APRIL  i,  1886.]  BRESSANT.  191 

.study  was  indispensable,  he  set  manfully  to  work,  and  in  less  than 
three  years  succeeded  in  mastering  the  thirty  or  forty  parts  com- 
prising the  current  repertory,  ancient  and  modern,  not  omitting 
at  the  same  time  to  conciliate  his  fellow  actors  by  soliciting  their 
advice  on  points  where  his  own  inexperience  was  necessarily  at 
fault.  By  this  judicious  policy  he  entirely  dissipated  the  prejudice 
they  had  previously  conceived  against  him,  and  soon  became  as 
universal  a  favourite  with  his  comrades  as  he  had  never  ceased  to 
be  with  the  public. 

His  first  signal  triumph  in  the  "  house  of  Moliere  "  was  Alma- 
viva  in  the  "  Barbier  de  Seville,"  a  part  affording  full  scope  for 
the  display  of  his  most  attractive  qualities,  and  so  admirably 
suited  to  his  artistic  capabilities  that  it  is  more  than  doubtful  if 
even  Mole,  the  original  representative  of  the  character,  could  have 
surpassed  him.  In  "  Turcaret  "  and  "  Le  Jeune  Mari  "  fresh  laurels 
fell  to  his  share,  and  of  his  creation  of  Octave  in  "  Les  Caprices  de 
Marianne  "  perhaps  the  best  criticism  was  that  of  a  lady  who,  in 
answer  to  the  charge  made  against  him  by  a  partisan  of  Brindeau 
that  he  was  always  the  same,  "  toujours  Bressant,"  retorted : 
"  Precisement,  et  voila  pourquoi  il  est  toujours  charmant  !  " 

It  is  an  established  custom  at  the  Theatre  Francois  that  an 
actor  holding  the  position  of  "premier  role'"  should  at  some  period 
or  other  undergo  the  crucial  test  of  interpreting  the  two  most 
difficult  characters  in  the  repertory,  "  The  Misanthrope "  and 
"  Tartuffe."  It  cannot  be  said  with  truth  that  Bressant  absolutely 
succeeded  in  either ;  his  Alceste  lacked  the  impetuous  energy  of 
his  predecessor,  Firmin,  and  was  at  the  best  a  tame  performance ; 
while  the  absence  of  every  physical  qualification  for  the  part  ren- 
dered his  conception  of  the  "  demure,  sensual  hypocrite  "  a  com- 
plete anomaly.  As  George  Henry  Lewes  happily  expresses  it  : 
"  His  appearance  and  manner  were  those  of  a  handsome  young 
curate  who  has  committed  a  forgery,  and  cannot  conceal  his 
anxiety  at  the  coming  exposure."  Indeed,  except  in  the  earlier 
scenes  of  "  Le  Festin  de  Pierre,"  where  he  looked  Don  Juan  to  the 
life,  I  never  remember  seeing  him  to  advantage  in  Moliere ; 
whereas  in  Marivaux  he  was  quite  at  home,  and  vied  with  Madame 
Plessy  in  a  lively  interchange  of  badinage  in  "  Les  Fausses  Confi- 
dences "  and  "  Les  Jeux  de  P Amour  et  du  Hasard."  On  Madame 
Allan's  return  from  Russia,  she  brought  with  her  Alfred  de 
Musset's  exquisite  little  comedy,  "  Un  Caprice,"  which  had  been 

NEW   SERIES. — VOL.    VII.  P 


i92  THE    THEATRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886. 

represented  for  the  first  time  at  St.  Petersburg.  Bressant  and 
Mdlle.  Judith  completed  the  cast,  and  so  perfect  a  specimen  of 
all-round  acting  no  one,  in  our  generation  at  least,  is  likely  to  see 
again. 

In  1875,  threatened  with  incipient  paralysis,  this  genuine,  and 
in  many  respects  unrivalled,  artist  wisely  retired  from  the  stage, 
but  continued  for  some  years  to  officiate  as  professor  of  elocution 
at  the  Conservatoire.  Of  his  pupils,  as  far  as  I  am  aware,  the 
only  one  who  has  as  yet  fully  realised,  and  even  surpassed  his 
expectations,  is  that  delightful  actress,  Mdlle.  Sophie  Croizette.* 


A   Remembrance. 

DEAR,  shall  I  count  the  two  short  happy  years, 
And  say  :  On  such  a  day  we  laughed  and  sung  ; 
On  such  a  morning  mingled  bitter  tears  ; 

And  here — 'twas  in  the  twilight — here  you  flung 
A  gentle  arm  around  me  ?     Truly,  Sweet, 

In  dear  Love's  calendar  such  things  are  set, 
And  I  in  cuckoo-cadence  could  repeat 
Each  jewelled  memory,  nor  one  forget. 

Or  rather,  shall  I  whisper  (while  the  air 

As  tho'  a  cluster  of  white  lilies  stirred 
Grows  sweeter  at  your  name)  that  everywhere 

The  sun  falls  brighter,  every  tiny  bird 
Sings  purer  melody,  and  all  the  flowers 

Wave  with  a  fresher  beauty  since  that  morn, 
.     .     .     The  happy  herald  of  yet  happier  hours     .     .     . 

This  prescience  of  a  future  love  was  born. 

An  April  morning,  with  its  showers  and  shine, — 

A  girl's  young  presence  with  its  worldless  charm, — 
In  glad  remembrance  in  this  heart  of  mine 

I  shrine  these  images.     And  if  the  calm 
Of  future  Springtides  holds  a  hidden  bliss, 

To  flash  the  love-light  in  your  glorious  eyes, 
One  prayer  I'll  whisper — that  our  silent  kiss 

Find  place  amongst  your  April  memories.- 

M.  E.  W. 

Bressant  died  at  Nemours,  January  22,  1886,  in  his  seventy-first  year. 


APRIL  i,  1886.]  "HAMLET"  AT  PORTE-ST.-MARTIN.        193 


"Hamlet"  at  the  Porte-Saint-Martin. 

BY  JOSEPH    KNIGHT. 

A  FLYING  visit  to  Paris  in  March  enabled  me  to  pay  my 
respects  to  the  recently-appointed  director  of  the 
Theatre  Frangais,  and  to  witness  the  representation  of 
"  Hamlet,"  given  at  the  Porte-Saint-Martin,  under  the  care  of 
Mdme.  Sarah  Bernhardt.  Paris  on  the  morning  of  my  arrival 
was  knee-deep  in  snow,  and  the  appearance  at  six  o'clock  a.m.,  of 
the  streets,  full  of  early  travellers  plodding  through  the  "  slush," 
with  the  conical  hoods  of  their  coats  drawn  over  their  heads, 
gave  the  once  picturesque  city  a  more  mediaeval  look  than  I  have 
seen  it  assume  since  the  quaint  old  architecture  of  streets  that 
witnessed  the  entrance  of  Henri  IV.  gave  place  to  the  long 
boulevards  that  saw  the  exit  of  Napoleon  III.  and  the  appearance 
of  the  Prussian.  M.  Claretie  is  a  handsome,  intelligent-looking 
man,  with  enough  firmness  of  character  to  hold  in  hand  the 
eminently  turbulent,  quarrelsome,  and  self-opinionated  members 
of  the  Comedie  Fran9aise,  and  with  a  courtesy  and  distinction  of 
manner  contrasting  strikingly  with  the  official  an  d  noli  me  tangcre  airs 
of  his  predecessor.  The  visit  is  only  worth  mentioning  inasmuch 
as,  together  with  M.  Mounet-Sully,  M.  Claretie  and  I  discussed 
the  forthcoming  revival  of  "  Hamlet  "  at  the  Theatre  Francais,  in 
which  M.  Mounet-Sully  is  to  take  the  principal  part  and  the 
merits  of  Mr.  Irving's  performance,  of  which  all  were  well  aware. 
With  a  knowledge  of  French  proceedings  towards  English 
artists  and  writers — the  result  of  long  experience — I  had  provided 
myself  in  the  Place  de  FOpera  with  a  numbered  fautcuil  d'orchestre 
for  the  Porte-Saint-Martin,  and  was  thus  able  to  dispense 
with  the  unnumbered  admission  which,  on  my  return  from  dinner, 
I  found  awaiting  me.  The  application  to  the  management  which 
had  brought  me  this  reply  was  due  only  to  the  fear  that  a  seat 
might  be  unobtainable  through  ordinary  channels,  and  that  a 
delay  I  could  ill  afford  would  be  necessary  if  my  visit  to  Paris  was 
not  to  prove  fruitless.  To  the  general  public  these  details  may 

P  2 


194 


THE    THEATRE.  [APRIL x,  1886. 


seem  trivial.  It  is  for  the  benefit  of  the  few  only  that  I  point  the 
contrast  between  the  reception  accorded  in  London  to  every  French 
artist  and  that  certain  to  "attend  in  France  one  with  the  strongest 
claim  to  consideration. 

Though  central  in  situation,  the  fauteuil  I  occupied  was  cramped 
and  inconvenient,  and  in  no  way  to  be  compared  with  the  stalls  at 
any  second-class  London  theatre.  On  the  depressing  influence  to 
an  Englishman  of  a  house  in  which  the  women  without  exception 
wear  bonnets,  and  the  men  are  all  in  morning  dress,  on  the  absence 
of  an  orchestra,  and  on  the  noise  of  the  vendors  of  "  L'Entr'acte," 
"  L'Orchestre,"  and  other  newspapers  serving  the  place  of  play- 
bills it  is  needless  to  dwell,  since  all  visitors  to  Parisian  theatres 
are  familiar  with  these  or  other  similar  conditions.  I  may  add, 
however,  that  at  the  close  of  each  of  the  eleven  tableaux  into  which 
"  Hamlet  "  is  divided,  the  signal  for  the  reassembling  of  the  actors 
is  given  by  three  knocks  on  the  floor,  which  at  the  Theatre 
Fran£ais  is  the  sign  for  the  ascent  of  the  curtain.  After  a  delay 
of  one  or  two  minutes  three  further  knocks  are  given.  A  further 
delay  rather  shorter  than  the  previous  is  followed  by  the  ringing 
of  a  bell  and  the  ultimate  raising  of  the  curtain. 

When,  at  a  quarter-past  eight,  this  was  lifted,  the  scene 
exhibited  was  the  State  rooms  at  Elsinore.  The  scene  which  in 
the  original,  with  unexampled  dignity  and  appropriateness,  opens 
out  the  ^action  with  the  mention  of  the  Ghost  whose  presence, 
seen  or  unseen,  is  to  dominate  the  tragedy,  is — out  of  deference 
to  some  French  superstition — omitted.  So  far  as  regards  the 
general  appearance,  the  playgoer  might  believe  himself  in  England 
at  a  country  representation.  The  traditions  of  the  English  stage 
are,  so  far  as  dressing  the  characters  is  concerned,  closely  followed. 
Laertes,  the  King,  the  Queen,  and  the  nobles  and  pages  in  waiting 
are  the  same  as  have  been  seen  a  hundred  times.  In  the  case  of 
Polonius,  some  change — attributable  to  the  idiosyncracy  of  the 
actor  by  whom  it  is  taken — is  evident.  The  sententiousness  of 
the  old  chamberlain  has  disappeared  ;  he  is  a  garrulous  and  cheer- 
ful old  gossip,  caring  far  less  for  his  dignity  than  for  a  hearing, 
and  completely  enamoured  of  his  own  wit.  The  reading  is  defen- 
sible, and  is  the  only  representation  in  the  play  at  once 
important  enough  to  invite  criticism  and  ingenious  enough  to  pass 
unchallenged.  From  the  first,  however,  it  is  obvious  that  such 
interest  as  the  performance  possesses  must  be  derived  from  the 


APRIL  i,  1886.]  "HAMLET"  AT  PORTE-ST  .-MARTIN.      195 

two  central  characters.  The  first  appearance  of  Hamlet  is  pre- 
possessing. In  the  hands  of  M.  Gamier — favourably  recalled  for 
his  performance  of  Justinian  in  "  Theodora  " — he  is  a  handsome, 
well-built,  manly-looking  fellow  enough,  with  blonde  hair  a  la 
Fechter,  and  with  an  easy  bearing  and  picturesque  appearance. 
In  these  things,  however,  the  entire  merit  of  the  performance  is 
found.  Like  his  predecessor,  Fechter,  M.  Gamier  mistakes 
Hamlet  for  an  amorous  jcune  premier.  No  such  insight  as 
was  displayed  by  Fechter  is,  however,  shown,  and  the 
performance  lacks  the  beauty,  gallantry,  and  colour  which,  in 
Fechter,  disposed  one  to  pardon  the  absence  of  any  adequate 
conception  of  the  character.  M.  Gamier  is,  in  fact,  not  Hamlet 
at  all.  The  sombre  questionings  of  destiny,  the  recoil  from  the 
discharge  of  a  duty  acknowledged  to  be  imperative,  the  varying 
moods,  the  contest  between  simulated  madness  and  genuine 
mental  derangement,  the  thousand  conflicting  influences  and 
emotions  which  go  to  make  up  the  most  composite  and  the  most 
interesting  character  in  the  drama,  trouble  not  this.exponcnt.  In 
the  scenes  with  Ophelia,  he  is  at  times  tender ;  in  the  presence  of 
the  Ghost,  he  bears  himself  with  a  fair  show  of  filial  reverence ; 
Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern  are  treated  with  a  certain  measure 
of  sarcasm  ;  the  King,  in  the  play  scene,  is  glared  at  with  sufficient 
ferocity ;  and  the  Queen  is  subsequently  lectured  with  exemplary 
indignation.  So  the  performance  progresses  until  a  poorly-fought 
duel  and  a  grotesque  slaughter  of  the  King  brings  to  an  end  an 
impersonation  respectable  as  a  display  of  physical  resources,  but 
otherwise  of  no  account. 

The  Ophelia  of  Mdme.  Sarah  Bernhardt  may  not  be  thus  sum- 
marily dismissed.  As  to  conception,  it  is  not  greatly  superior  to  the 
Hamlet  of  M.  Gamier;  but, as  to  rendering,  it  is  another  affair. 
That  the  selection  by  Mdme.  Bernhardt  of  the  character  of  Ophelia 
was  unwise  was  felt  by  most  English  judges.  Among  Shake- 
spearean characters  there  is  probably  none  so  unsuited  to  her  means 
as  this.  It  is  easy  to  fancy  Mdme.  Bernhardt  as  "  the  gentle  lady 
wedded  to  the  Moor."  There  are,  indeed,  scenes  in  "  Othello  "  in 
which  her  supreme  method  might  produce  results  with  which  the 
modern  playgoer  has  no  acquaintance.  The  virginal  sweetness 
and  fragrance  of  Ophelia  approach,  however,  near  to  the  ingenue 
type,  and  to  show  her  a  passionate  woman  abandoned  wholly  to 
her  love  is  to  be  false  to  the  very  spirit  of  the  character. 


196  THE    THEATRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886. 

This,  however,  Mdme.  Bernhardt  does,  and  all  the  genius  she 
displays,  and  all  the  resources  of  her  unparalleled  method,  fail  to 
reconcile  us  to  the  reading.  When  first  seen  in  her  father's 
house,  looking  stately  and  beautiful  as  Guinevere,  holding  the  small 
framework  on  which  she  is  weaving  a  pattern  of  flowers  or  birds, 
she  is  passionately  in  love  with  Hamlet,  and  ripely  content  with 
the  declaration  she  has  just  received  of  his  returned  affection.  To 
justify  this  faith  the  poetical  epistle  of  Hamlet,  which  in  the 
English  play  is  read  in  a  later  scene  to  the  King  and  Queen  by 
Polonius,  is  introduced  in  the  second  scene,  and  is  read  by 
Ophelia  to  Polonius,  who  is  questioning  his  daughter  concerning 
the  intentions  of  Hamlet.  Concerning  these  Ophelia  has  no 
doubt.  Radiant  and  rapturous  in  self-content,  she  bends  down  her 
eyes  brimming  with  happiness,  and  listens  with  no  thought  of  doubt 
or  mistrust  to  the  suggestions  of  her  brother  and  the  more  out- 
spoken counsels  of  her  father. 

In  proportion  as  her  faith  in  Hamlet  is  firm  at  the  outset,  her 
perplexity  and  grief  at  his  sudden  withdrawal  of  his  affection  are 
tearful.  That  his  brain  is  touched  she  knows,  but  she  is  none  the 
less  distracted  at  his  bearing.  With  eyes  streaming  with  tears, 
she  listens  to  his  cruel  words,  throwing  herself  finally  in  front  of  a 
picture  of  the  Virgin,  whose  intercession  she  piteously  invokes.  As 
a  picture  of  love  and  distress  this  is  delicious.  It  has,  however, 
little  to  do  with  "  Hamlet." 

In  the  play  scene  Mdme.  Bernhardt  yields  for  a  moment  to  the 
delusion  that  Hamlet's  love  has  returned,  and  that  matters  are 
once  more  right.  In  obedience  to  his  own  suggestion,  Hamlet 
lies  almost  in  her  lap.  His  head,  which  rests  on  her  knees,  she 
gently  fans,  and  she  stoops  over  him  with  a  caressing  affection 
which  renders  her  insensible  to  the  presence  of  her  father  and  the 
court.  S,oon,  however,  perceiving  that,  whatever  else  is  occupying 
his  attention,  it  is  not  herself,  she  turns  listlessly  to  the  play,  and 
watches  it  until  the  King's  fright  and  the  passionate  outbreak  of 
Hamlet  send  her,  in  common  with  the  rest  of  the  company,  scared 
from  the  chamber.  This  is  her  last  last  appearance  before  her 
loss  of  reason.  That  the  phenomena  of  madness  and  unrest 
would  be  superbly  shown  by  Mdme.  Bernhardt  was  doubted  by 
none.  Her  performances  in  the  love  scene  of  the  fourth  act  are, 
indeed,  in  their  way,  matchless.  In  place  of  the  outbursts  of 
song  to  which  Ophelia  ordinarily  gives  way,  Mdme.  Bernhardt 


APRIL  i,  i886.]    "HAMLET"  AT  PORTE-ST. -MARTIN.        197 

delivers,  in  a  plaintive  chaunt,  a  ballad  concerning  herself  and  her 
Valentine,  which  introduces  some  of  the  verses  quoted  by  Shake- 
speare.     Her  mournful  intonation  and  her  startled  gaze  when 
Horatio  crosses  her  path,  though  they  do  not  reconcile  one  to  the 
change  that  has  been  made,  extort  admiration.     A  full  tribute  of 
tears  is  accorded  her  in  the  scene  with  the  wild  flowers,  which, 
instead  of  being  braided  in  a  coronal,  descend  in  a  falling  spray 
with  her  hair.      The  action  with    which    she    accompanies    the 
bestowal  of  each  is,  like  the  words  she  utters,  charged  with  more 
significance  than  the  original  text  warrants.     A  direct  prophecy  of 
evil  to  the  King  is  thus  delivered.      Very  striking,  however,  is  the 
manner  in  which,  after  giving  the  queen  a  bunch  of  rue,  she,  instead 
of  taking  from  her  gathered  skirt  a  fresh  spray  to  weave  with  the 
other  flowers  and  herbs  in  her  hair,  snatches  back  a  spray  of  that 
the  Queen  has  taken.     After  this,  with  a  renewed  obeisance  to  the 
King  and  Queen,  she  takes  her  final  departure. 

She  is  once  more  seen  with  her  face  rigid  as  marble,  and  her 
body,  covered  with  flowers,  carried  upon  a  bier  to  the  churchyard. 
This  innovation  cannot  be  regarded  as  a  new  reading.  It  is 
simply  a  matter  of  stage  arrangement.  Its  advantages  are  that 
it  supplies  a  scene  picturesque  in  itself,  and  that  it  introduces 
Ophelia  in  the  last  act,  to  the  interest  of  which — at  least,  from 
the  standpoint  of  the  actress — it  may  be  held  to  add.  This  gain 
is  accompanied  by  drawbacks  far  more  than  compensatory.  In 
the  first  place,  it  involves  the  abandonment  of  a  portion  of  the 
rites  already  "  maimed."  The  body  is  no  longer  placed  on  the  bier. 
Neither  Laertes  nor  Hamlet  can,  according  to  stage  directions, 
jump  into  the  grave  beside  the  corpse,  or  claim  to  "be  buried 
with  her  quick."  The  short,  fierce  struggle  of  the  two  men  begins 
across  the  corpse  over  which,  at  its  outset,  Laertes  is  bending. 
When  no  distinct  and  emphatic  gain  attends  a  departure  from 
the  expressed  intention  of  Shakespeare,  the  mere  irreverence  of 
such  a  proceeding  is  in  itself  its  condemnation. 

In  spite,  then,  of  the  beauty  of  the  art  of  Mdme.  Bernhardt, 
nowhere  more  noteworthy  and  conspicuous  than  in  this  perform- 
ance, the  representation,  from  an  English  standpoint,  is  a  failure. 
"  It  is  not — nor  it  cannot  come  to — good, "inasmuch  as  it  is  not  the 
.heroine  Shakespeare  created  and  the  English-speaking  world  has 
since  adored.  The  more  clearly  it  demonstrates  the  possession 
by  the  actress  of  gifts  wholly  unique  and  exceptional,  the  more 


ig8  THE    THEATRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886, 

does  it  dissatisfy  those  who  have  most  closely  studied  the  character 
it  is  sought  to  expound. 

Of  the  general  rendering  of  the  play  it  is  difficult  fully  to  treat, 
inasmuch  as  a  printed  version  of  the  text  has  not  yet  seen  the 
light.  Of  all  measures,  the  French  Alexandrine, with  its  recurrent 
rhymes,  masculine  and  feminine,  its  caesura,  and  its  general  in- 
flexibility, is  the  least  adapted  to  convey  the  meaning  of  Shake- 
speare. More  than  one  prose  French  version  has  recently  seen 
the  light  in  Paris,  and  such  would  be  in  all  respects  better  than 
the  adaptation  of  MM.  Cressonnois  and  Samson,  in  which  neither 
the  poetry  nor  the  humour  of  Shakespeare  can  be  retained.  It 
may  be  doubted  whether  the  impotence  of  this  metre  for  the  task 
forced  upon  it  is  more  forcibly  illustrated  in  the  soliloquies  of 
Hamlet  or  [in  the  garrulous  passages  of  the  Gravedigger  or  of 
Polonius.  Almost  all  that  is  vital  has,  at  least,  disappeared  in 
the  passage  through  the  alembic  of  translation. 

One  of  the  most  important  omissions  is  that  of  the  speech  of 
Hamlet  to  the  players  concerning  the  manner  in  which  are  to  be 
pronounced  the  lines  he  has  written.  It  is  conceivable  that 
these  lines  may  be  regarded  in  France  as  suitable  to  our  own: 
actors,  but  needless  and  impertinent  as  regards  those  of  France 
in  general,  and  of  the  Porte  St.  Martin  in  particular.  The  dis- 
appearance of  Osric,  whose  euphuisms  are  not  readily  translated 
into  French,  is  more  pardonable,  since  the  character  is  not  always 
preserved  in  England.  The  Stilo  Culto,  however,  known  as 
Gongorisme  or  Marinisme,  which  reached  France  from  Italy 
through  Spain,  might  serve  to  reproduce  the  speech  of 
Osric,  and  Hamlet's  half-amused,  half-contemptuous  retort 
which,  it  may  be  remembered,  was  given  by  Mr.  Irving  with 
matchless  effect.  Some  changes,  regrettable  in  all  respects,  are 
due  to  the  exigencies  of  the  stage  as  now  arranged.  Hamlet  thus 
no  longer  follows  the  Ghost  to  a  more  retired  part  of  the  ramparts,, 
where  he  may  without  other  companions  receive  its  porten- 
tous message.  After  vainly  striving  to  alter  Hamlet's  deter- 
mination to  obey  the  courteous  gesture  of  the  Ghost  and  follow  it, 
Horatio  and  Marcellus  themselves  withdraw  and  leave  the  Ghost 
to  speak  his  mind  on  the  spot  at  which  he  first  appears.  This  is 
a  sufficiently  unsatisfactory  arrangement.  Not  much  better  is  the 
manner  in  which  the  Ghost  reaches  the  platform,  ascending  with 
bent  knees  from  some  staircase  in  the  wall.  As  a  substitute  for  the 


APRIL  i,  i886.]   «  HAMLET'  A  T  FOR TE-ST. -MARTIN.       igg 

gliding  movement  of  the  Ghost  as  ordinarily  seen  this  is  very  poor. 
Far  better  is  the  scene  in  the  Queen's  chamber,  wherein  the  picture 
of  the  deceased  King  on  a  panel,  to  which  Hamlet  points,  for  the 
purpose  of  contrast  with  that  of  the  reigning  King,  worn  by  the 
Queen  as  a  remembrance,  becomes  endowed  with  ghostly  life,, 
and  glides  across  the  room.  Least  defensible  of  all  the  alterations 
is  the  manner  in  which  the  scene  in  the  Royal  closet  of  attempted 
prayer  on  the  part  of  the  King  is  arranged.  Entering  into  the 
Queen's  chamber,  as  yet  unoccupied  by  the  Queen,  the  King 
delivers  there  the  lines  beginning  "  O,  my  offence  is  rank ;  it 
smells  to  heaven."  Having  spoken  these,  he  withdraws  to  some 
shrine  or  oratory  adjacent.  From  the  Queen's  chamber  Hamlet 
can  see  this  shrine  on  his  left  hand,  and  to  the  kneeling  King  he 
addresses  the  speech,  "  Now  might  I  do  it  pat ;  now  he  is 
praying."  The  arrival  of  the  Queen  and  the  cry  of  alarm,  with  the 
call  for  help  of  Polonius,  and  the  murder  behind  the  arras  to 
the  right  follow,  and  Hamlet  then  asks  if  his  victim  is  the  King 
whom  the  moment  previously  he  has  seen  elsewhere. 

Some  speeches  ordinarily  omitted  are  restored,  and  at  the  close 
of  the  action  Fortinbras  appears.  With  these  things  I  will  not 
concern  myself.  Enough  has  been  said  to  show  that  the  per- 
formance, so  far  from  possessing  any  claim  upon  consideration  in 
England^  is  in  the  main  not  only  unimportant,  but  unintelligent. 
The  chance  of  seeing  Madame  Bernhardt  in  any  character  is  not 
to  be  despised.  This  great  actress,  however,  will  not  add  to  her 
laurels  by  her  last  assumption.  It  is  to  be  hoped,  if  she  again 
attempts  Shakespeare,  some  character  widely  different  from 
Ophelia  will  be  chosen.  In  Paris  even  the  success  is  only  relative, 
and  at  the  time  I  write  the  withdrawal  of  Shakespeare  in  favour  of 
M.  Sardou  has  been  announced. 


200  THE   THE  A  TRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886. 


Some  Old  Olympians. 

BUILDINGS  have  a  history  just  like  men  and  women  ;  famous 
houses  could  tell  many  things  if  brick  and  stone  had  the 
power  of  speech  ;  and  a  theatre,  in  particular,  has  often  a  more 
chequered  existence  than  the  rank  and  file  of  edifices.  London 
theatres  have  not  been  exempt  from  the  usual  vicissitudes  of  their 
kind,  and  the  Olympic,  if  we  make  a  choice,  presents  a  very  good 
instance  of  this  ebb  and  flow  of  fortune.  Many  plays  of  worth 
have  first  met  the  light  behind  its  proscenium,  not  a  few  actors 
and  actresses  of  note  have  gained  some  of  their  greatest  triumphs 
on  its  well-worn  boards,  managerial  reputations  enough  have  been 
won  and  lost  within  its  precincts.  The  old  theatre  has  in  its  day 
been  beloved  alike  of  gods  and  of  ordinary  mortals,  its  walls  have 
often  rung  with  the  cheers  of  approving  audiences,  its  echoes  have 
sometimes  been  wakened  by  the  groans  and  hootings  of  angry  and 
disappointed  playgoers.  Its  situation  is  just  now  a  little  outside 
the  general  run  of  dramatic  enterprises,  and  the  fagade  in  Wych 
Street,  in  the  very  heart  of  the  Drury  Lane  district,  stands  out  as 
if  defying  an  unfriendly  land.  The  noises  of  Clare  Market,  and  the 
rumble  of  the  traffic  in  the  Strand  are  often  borne  towards  it,  and  the 
hansom  speeding  northwards  dashes  by  it.  Now,  if  we  look  back  not 
so  very  far  down  the  stream  of  time,  we  shall  find  many  rocks  and 
sunken  trees  marking  the  points  where  one  manager  found  fame  and 
profit,  and  another  great  undertaking  foundered  and  went  down. 
Lightly  snapping  up  no  mere  unconsidered  trifles  but  reminiscences 
of  the  Olympic's  more  palmy  days,  may  be  the  searcher  may 
bring  the  reader  to  share  with  him  in  the  pleasure  thus  to  be 
found. 

The  name  of  the  late  Alfred  Wigan  is  the  first  that  we  propose 
to  mention  in  connection  with  the  Olympic  Theatre.  An  actor  of 
great  refinement,  polish,  and  skill,  Mr.  Wigan  leaves  behind  him 
the  reputation  of  being  the  best  French-speaking  artist  and  im- 
personator of  French  characters  on  the  English  stage  in  his  day ; 


APRIL  i,  1886.]         SOME    OLD    OL  YMPIANS.  201 

in  this  accomplishment  his  laurels  have  fallen  to  those  clever  actors, 
Mr.  G.  W.  Anson  and  Mr.  Beerbohm-Tree.  Mr.  Wigan  became 
manager  of  the  theatre  in  Wych  Street  in  1853,  and  in  conjunction 
with  his  wife  achieved  great  success  in  every  department  of  the 
enterprise.  Two  plays  by  the  late  Tom  Taylor  were  first  produced 
at  this  time,  both  of  which  still  continue  to  be  played  alike 
in  London  and  in  the  provinces.  These  were  "  Plot  and  Passion" 
and  "  Still  Waters  Run  Deep."  The  John  Mildmay  of  Mr.  Wigan 
was  one  of  his  most  famous  characters.  An  able  co-operator  in 
these  plays  was  Mr.  Emery,  a  comedian  of  great  ability  and  merit. 
It  was  in  "Plot  and  Passion"  that  Mr.  Frederick  Robson  first 
showed  that  he  could  take  a  high  place  among  actors  of  serious 
parts,  and  was  not  merely  a  burlesque  actor  and  low  comedian  as 
his  previous  career  might  have  led  casual  observers  to  imagine. 
Mr.  Robson  had  done  excellent  service  for  the  Olympic  under 
Mr.  Farren's  management,  just  before  Mr.  Alfred  Wigan  took  the 
theatre.  In  Talfourd's  burlesques  of  "  Macbeth  "  and  "  Shylock  " 
Mr.  Robson  had  made  a  great  furore,  while  his  famous  Jem  Baggs, 
in  "  The  Wandering  Minstrel,"  confirmed  him  in  the  position  of 
being  a  most  original  actor.  With  Mr.  Wigan  he  followed  up 
these  great  and  conspicuous  successes ;  and  his  triumph  as 
Desmarets,  in  "  Plot  and  Passion,"  found  a  counterpart  at  a  more 
opposite  pole  of  dramatic  art  in  Planche's  well-known  burlesque 
"  The  Yellow  Dwarf."  We  may  note  that  from  his  first  engage- 
ment here  in  1853,  up  to  his  premature  death  in  1864,  Mr.  Robson 
was  always  one  of  the  chief  lode-stars  of  the  Olympic  public. 
Another  tower  of  strength  vouchsafed  to  Mr.  Wigan's  company, 
who,  like  Frederick  Robson,  had  already  won  laurels  enough  at 
this  house,  was  Mrs.  Stirling.  Under  Mr.  Wigan  many  leading 
parts  were  played  by  this  estimable  and  talented  actress  whose 
name  has  cast  so  bright  a  lustre  on  the  stage.  Her  Lady  Teazle 
won  great  favour ;  she  was  in  the  original  cast  of  Tom  Taylor's 
"  To  Oblige  Benson  ;"  and  all  her  other  performances  maintained 
the  high  standard  that  ever  marked  Mr.  Wigan's  productions. 
The  help  given  to  him  by  his  wife  in  every  branch  of  this  four 
years'  enterprise  as  manager  cannot  be  over-estimated  or  too 
highly  praised.  After  this  period  of  hard  work  and  success— 
both  artistic  and  financial — Mr.  Wigan  at  last  quitted  the 
Olympic.  He  had  previously  introduced  his  brother,  Mr.  Horace 
Wigan,  to  London  audiences. 


202 


THE  THE  A  TRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886, 


Next  came  the  partnership  of  Mr.  Emden  and  Frederick 
Robson,  an  epoch  fruitful  both  in  good  plays  and  in  good  acting. 
The  actor-manager  continued  his  series  of  burlesque  performances, 
which  showed  how  closely  tragedy  touches  upon  the  lighter  vein 
of  acting.  In  "Medea  "and  in  "  Masaniello  "  he  again  carried 
the  public  along  with  him  ;  while  graver  and  more  impressive 
performances  reminded  thoughtful  people  of  his  genius  in  parts 
requiring  intensity  and  vigour  of  style.  But  ill-health,  later  on, 
made  his  appearance  somewhat  fitful.  The  dramatists  who  wrote 
for  Mr.  Robson  were  men  of  mark,  such  as  John  Oxenford, 
Palgrave  Simpson,  Maddison  Morton,  Tom  Taylor,  and  F.  C. 
Burnand.  In  several  plays  Mr.  Horace  Wigan  added  to 
his  growing  reputation,  sustaining  good  parts  in  "The  Porter's 
Knot,"  "  Nine  Points  of  the  Law,"  "A  Husband  to  Order,"  and 
other  pieces  by  these  and  other  writers.  Mrs.  Leigh  Murray  was 
also  in  the  company,  and  Mrs.  Gaston  Murray  was  the  heroine  in 
several  of  Mr.  Burnand's  burlesques.  "  The  King  of  the  Merrows; 
or,  the  Prince  and  the  Piper,"  a  lively  burlesque  composed  by  Mr. 
Burnand  and  Mr.  Palgrave  Simpson,  enabled  Mr.  Robson  to  score 
a  great  success  in  the  part  of  the  Piper,  topical  songs  in  abun- 
dance being  given  to  the  actor-manager.  Another  important 
incident  was  the  engagement  of  Miss  Amy  Sedgwick,  who  played 
here  for  some  time  in  various  revivals,  as  "  Plot  and  Passion  "  and 
''  The  School  for  Scandal,"  and  also  in  new  pieces,  an  example  of 
which  was  Mr.  Palgrave  Simpson's  comedy,  "  Court  Cards." 
These  illustrations  are  proof  enough  both  of  the  strength  of  the 
acting  and  the  freshness  of  the  plays  under  Mr.  Robson. 

One  of  the  most  promising  recruits  that  joined  Mr.  Robson  was 
the  man  whose  name  and  style  of  acting  were  henceforward  to  be 
associated  with  the  Olympic  for  so  many  years.  This  was  Mr- 
Henry  Neville,  in  his  prime  the  beau  ideal  of  heroes  of  romantic 
drama,  at  once  strong,  brave,  chivalrous,  and  generous  in  his  own 
well-known  line  of  characters.  Mr.  Neville  first  appeared  at  this 
house  in  1861,  and  two  years  later,  he  and  Mr.  Horace  Wigan 
helped  to  bring  about  one  of  the  greatest  successes  ever  achieved 
in  the  way  of  melodrama.  Melodrama  pure  and  simple  this  was; 
orthodox  melodrama  ;  stereotyped  if  you  will,  without  the  adventi- 
tious aid  of  realistic  shows,  revolving  scenes,  mimic  railways, 
fires,  and  the  like,  Tom  Taylor's  stirring  adaptation  from  the 


APRIL  i,  i886.]      SOME    OLD    OLYMPIANS.  203 

French,  the  perennial  "  Ticket-of-Leave-Man,"  attracted  crowds 
to  the  house  in  Wych  Street,  brought  a  golden  harvest  to  the 
treasury  of  the  management,  and  placed  Mr.  Henry  Neville  at  one 
bound  in  the  very  front  rank  of  the  heroes  of  melodrama.  From 
1his  time  he  was  destined  to  be  seen  often  struggling  against 
adversity  and  mocked  at  by  fortune,  but  always  on  the  side  of  the 
right  and  victorious  before  the  fall  of  the  curtain  on  the  fifth  act. 
The  character  of  the  Lancashire  lad,  Bob  Brierley,  unwittingly 
led  into  error  and]thenceforward  resolutely  striving  to  be  honest  and 
true,  gave  Mr.  Neville  his  opportunity ;  and  no  one  who  ever  saw 
the  play  could  fail  to  approve  the  sterling  qualities  and  robust, 
manly  style  of  this  born  interpreter  of  valiant  modern  knights- 
errants.  Mr.  Horace  Wigan,  too,  did  wonders  as  the  detective 
who  plays  the  part  of  deus  ex  machind.  In  the  scene  in  the  deserted 
ale-house,  where  Brierley,  in  the  garb  of  a  navvy,  sits  disconsolate, 
muttering  to  himself,  "  Who  will  take  this  letter  ?"  a  splendid 
stage  effect  is  produced  when  the  disguised  detective  steps  forward 
calmly  and  in  clear  accents  pronounces  the  simple  words,  "  I, 
Hawkshaw."  The  earnestness  of  Mr.  Neville  and  the  nonchalant 
but  decided  manner  of  Mr.  Wigan  worked  up  the  spectators  to  a 
pitch  of  excitement,  and  caused  one  of  the  best  coups  de  thiaire 
seen  on  the  melodramatic  stage.  Mrs.  Stephens,  one  of  the  main- 
stays of  the  Olympic  for  fourteen  years,  was  the  original  Mrs. 
Willoughby  in  this  drama,  Mrs.  Gaston  Murray  also  being  in 
the  cast. 

A  year  after  this,  on  Mr.  Robson's  death,  Mr.  Horace  Wigan 
himself  assumed  the  reins  of  management,  and  remained  connected 
with  the  Olympic  until  1869.  The  list  of  plays  produced  at  this 
period  is  certainly  varied  enough,  while  the  measure  of  success 
obtained  was  also  an  undefined  variable  quantity.  John  Oxenford 
was  among  the  dramatists  who  supplied  Mr.  Wigan  with  new 
plays,  while  Tom  Taylor,  with  the  laurels  of  "The  Ticket-of- 
Leave-Man  "  fresh  upon  him,  was  very  prolific  in  his  work.  Miss 
Nellie  Farren,  it  is  interesting  to  note,  was  a  member  of  Mr. 
Wigan's  company  for  two  years — 1864-66.  During  this  time  she 
played  many  characters,  both  in  drama  and  in  burlesque,  besides 
being  the  clown  in  the  revival  of  "  Twelfth  Night,"  to  which  we 
shall  have  again  to  refer.  Mr.  J.  G.  Taylor,  now  so  well  known 
in  the  different  lines  of  low  comedy,  burlesque,  and  character- 
acting,  made  his  first  appearance  in  London  in  an  Olympic  farce. 


204  THE  THEATRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886. 

Mr.  Taylor  has  certainly  had  as  diversified  an  experience  as  any 
one  in  his  profession.  Miss  Lydia  Foote  also  took  a  large  share 
in  the  performances  of  more  serious  drama,  her  acting  in  Mr. 
Wilkie  Collins'  "  Frozen  Deep  "  deserving  particular  mention. 
The  dramatisation  of  Miss  Braddon's  novel,  "  Henry  Dunbar  "- 
December,  1865 — was  a  very  important  addition  to  the  roll  of 
Olympic  success,  and  enabled  Mr.  Neville  to  strengthen  still 
further  his  hold  upon  the  public  favour.  Mr.  Neville  was  sup- 
ported by  Miss  Kate  Terry,  whose  artistic  playing  as  the  heroine, 
Margaret  Wentworth,  gave  much  eclat  to  this  stirring  melodrama. 
Indeed  this  was  another  red-letter  day  in  the  career  of  the  Wych 
Street  house.  Another  play  in  which  Mr.  Neville  again  struck 
home  to  the  imaginations  of  his  audiences  was  "  The  Yellow 
Passport,"  which  he  had  himself  adapted  from  Victor  Hugo's 
powerful  arid  touching  romance,  "  Les  Miserables/'  The  reader 
will  remember  the  convict  Jean  Valjean,  who  makes  his  escape 
from  the  Toulon  galleys,  and,  after  various  adventures,  settles 
down  in  a  provincial  town,  of  which  he  ?becomes  Mayor.  Mr. 
Neville  played  with  great  force,  particularly  in  the  affecting  scene 
where  the  benefactor  of  the  place,  beloved  by  alLhis  fellow-towns- 
men, stands  revealed  as  the  ex-convict,  Jean  Valjean.  Miss 
Furtado  and  Mr.  Wigan  played  in  this  drama — November, 
1868. 

Miss  Kate  Terry,  to  whom  we  have  just  referred,  the  eldest  of 
a  quartet  of  talented  sisters,  was  of  great  help  to  Mr.  Horace 
Wigan  during  her  two  years'  engagement  at  the  Olympic.  She 
played  leading  parts  in  several  more  of  Tom  Taylor's  dramas,  as,  for 
instance,  "The  Hidden  Hand,"  "The  Settling  Hand" 
and  "The  Serf,"  besides  in  "Love's  Martyrdom,"  by  Mr. 
Leicester  Buckingham,  and  in  -  the  revival  of  "  Twelfth 
Night,"  at  this  theatre,  she  doubled  the  parts  of  Viola  and 
Sebastian,  Mr.  Wigan  being  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek.  Twenty 
years  later  London  playgoers  witnessed  a  sister  and  a  brother 
acting  the  characters  once  assumed  by  their  elder  sister.  Again 
the  youngest  of  the  Terry  family — Miss  Florence  Terry — created 
the  character  of  Little  Nell  in  Andrew  Halliday's  version  of  "  The 
Old  Curiosity  Shop,"  produced  here  in  1870,  while  a  few  years 
later  her  sister,  Miss  Marion,  first  appeared  in  London  at  this  same 
theatre. 

In  the  interval  before  the  production  of  "The  Yellow  Passport," 


APRIL  i,  i586.]        SOME    OLD    OL  YMP1ANS.  205 

while  Mr.  Neville  was  winning  laurels  enough  at  the  Aclelphi  and 
elsewhere,  a  change  came  over  the  character  of  the  Olympic 
Melodrama  and  domestic  drama  vanished  from  the  scene,  and* 
Thalia  tripped  on  merrily,  bringing  with  her  her  chosen  votaries. 
Throughout  much  of  the  years  1867-68  Mr.  Charles  Mathews  and 
his  wife  figured  prominently  in  the  Olympic  bills  ;  and  the  pro- 
gramme of  the  theatre  necessarily  assumed  a  lighter  and  less 
serious  form.  Planche's  comedy,  "  Lavatly,"  was  one  of  the  early 
productions,  while  Mr.  Mathews'  own  version  of  Foote's  play, 
"  The  Liar,"  showed  the  dramatising  skill  of  the  actor,  and 
enjoyed  a  brilliant  and  successful  run. 

Farces  by  Maddison  Morton  displayed  the  comic  talent  of  the 
company,  and  the  revival  of  Thomas  Morton's  comedy,  "  The 
Way  to  Get  Married,"  gave  Mr.  Mathews  the  opportunity  of 
rivalling  Elliston  and  other  famous  actors  of  days  gone-by  in  the 
part  of  the  volatile  hero,  Tangent.  The  names  of  Mr.  Horace 
Wigan  and  Mr.  Addison,  besides  those  of  the  Mathews,  are 
sufficient  proof  of  the  strength  of  the  company,  and  the  return  of 
Mrs.  Stirling  to  the  stage  so  familiar  to  her  made  the  cast  still 
stronger.  In  the  two  plays  of  a  somewhat  kindred  nature  Mrs. 
Stirling  endowed  with  actuality  the  character  of  the  hard,  clear- 
headed "Woman  of  the  World";  both  in  Stirling  Coyne's  comedy, 
thus  entitled,  and  an  adaptation,  "  From  Gay  to  Grave,"  from  a 
play  of  Scribe,  this  actress  formed  the  central  figure,  her  perform- 
ance of  Lady  Driver  Kidd  in  the  latter  piece  being  remarkably 
good.  Chas.  Mathews  played  many  other  light  parts  in  his  well- 
remembered  and  inimitable  style,  but  the  dramatisation  of  Mr. 
Yates'  novel,  "  Black  Sheep,":made  by  the  writer  in  collaboration 
with  Mr.  Palgrave  Simpson,  caused  playgoers  a  great  and  not 
unwelcome  surprise.  Mr.  Mathews  and  his  wife  here  appeared  in 
quite  a  new  line,  characters  of  the  most  tragic  and  pathetic  kind 
being  filled  by  them  not  without  success.  An  incident  that  should 
not  pass  unnoticed  was  the  appearance  of  the  American  actresses, 
the  Sisters  Webb,  in  an  arrangement  of  the  play  that  had  brought 
them  fame  throughout  their  own  country.  This  was  "The  Grass- 
hopper," based  on  George  Sand's  story,  "  La  Petite  Fadette." 
The  talent  of  the  actresses  was  recognised  as  it  deserved,  but  the 
speculation  was  not  a  pecuniary  success.  Another  adaptation, 
called  "  Fanchette,"  was  produced  four  years  later  by  Mr.  Bate- 
man  at  the  Lyceum,  Mr.  Irving  then  playing  the  part  of  Landry, 


206  THE  THEATRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886. 

which,  in  the  Olympic  version,  Mr.  Clayton  had  played  in  such  an 
admirable  way.  This,  it  should  be  said,  was  very  early  in  Mr. 
Clayton's  London  career.  Mr.  John  Clarke,  so  clever  and  popular 
a  comedian,  must  also  be  reckoned  among  the  Olympians  of  this 
period ;  his  Sarah  Gamp,  in  a  dramatisation  of  "  Martin 
Chuzzlewit,"  was  a  very  humorous  and  amusing  performance. 
He  and  his  wife,  Miss  Furtado,  also  played  in  one  of  the  extrava- 
ganzas with  which  the  management  constantly  tried  to  flavour 
the  entertainments.  After  the  return  of  Mr.  Neville,  and  after  the 
production  of  his  adaptation  of  "  Les  Miserables,"  the  chronicle 
of  the  Olympic  becomes  for  a  brief  space  somewhat  sparse. 
However,  we  may  note  the  revival,  early  in  1869,  of  Watts 
Phillips's  comedy,  "  Paper  Wings,"  which  applied  forcibly  to  the 
disclosures  with  regard  to  speculative  enterprises  just  then  made 
public.  In  this  play,  Mr.  Neville,  Mr.  Wigan,  Miss  Furtado,  and 
Miss  Maria  Harris  took  part,  and  Mr.  Watts  Phillips  had  reason 
to  pride  himself  upon  the  fact  of  having  four  pieces  of  his  running 
.at  the  same  time.  But  the  period  was  one  of  stagnation  in 
theatrical  enterprises,  especially  so  far  as  concerned  the  produc- 
tion of  plays  of  any  high  standard  as  literature. 

In  the  autumn,  the  theatre  passed  under  the  management  of 
Mr.  W.  H.  Listen,  who  made  an  auspicious  beginning  of  his 
enterprise  by  producing  "  Little  Em'ly,"  a  version  of  "  David 
Copperfield,"  by  that  skilful  playwright,  Andrew  Halliday.  This 
was  a  great  success,  Mr.  G.  F.  Rowe  attracting  much  notice  by 
his  impersonation  of  Micawber.  The  late  Samuel  Emery  played 
Peggotty,  and  Miss  Patti  Josephs,  Miss  Fanny  Addison,  Mr. 
Charles  Warner,  and  Mr.  John  Nelson  were  included  in  a  very 
strong  company.  The  piece  ran  for  some  time,  and  obtained  the 
honours  of  a  revival  in  the  following  summer.  Various  changes 
were  made  in  the  cast,  Mr.  David  Fisher  being  successor  to  Mr. 
Rowe.  It  is  interesting  to  observe  that  the  original  version  of 
Mr.  W.  S.  Gilbert's  "  Princess  Ida"  was  brought  out  here,  under 
the  title  of  "  The  Princess."  The  music  used  was  by  Offenbach, 
and  Mr.  Fisher  took  the  part  recently  assumed  by  Mr.  George 
Grossmith.  The  performance  of  a  version  of  "  Frou-Frou  "  re- 
quires comment,  mainly  as  illustrating  the  then  prevalent  compe- 
tition between  several  theatres  for  the  production  of  plays  taken 
from  the  French  ;  in  this  case  the  St.  James's  was  the  rival  of  the 
Olympic.  A  revival  of  Tom  Taylor's  domestic  drama,  "  Mary 


APRIL  i,  1886.]          SOME  OLD  OLYMPIANS.  207 

Warner,"  brought  Miss  Bateman  to  this  theatre,  her  powerful 
acting  in  the  part  of  the  heroine  being  supported  by  Mr.  W.  H. 
Vernon,  Mr.  Belmore,  Mr.  W.  Blakeley,  and  her  youngest  sister 
then  called  Miss  Frances.  In  another  play  by  Tom  Taylor,  the 
principal  character  was  sustained  by  Mr.  Compton,  while  the 
company  consisted  of  most  of  the  artists  above-mentioned. 
Andrew  Halliday's  dramatisation  of  the  "Old  Curiosity  Shop" 
called  forth  the  admirable  performance  of  Mr.  John  Clarke  as 
Quilp,  the  little  Nell  being,  as  already  said,  Miss  Florence  Terry. 
Two  spectacular  pieces  in  verse,  written  by  Mr.  Reece  with  some 
imagination  and  fancy,  showed  signs  of  a  probable  restoration  of 
the  poetic  drama.  The  subjects  of  "  Undine  "  and  of  the  fairy 
couple,  "  Oberon  and  Titania,"  gave  scope  for  the  abilities  of  the 
actors  engaged,  and  also  for  the  employment  of  elaborate  scenery. 
More  important,  however,  was  the  production  of  Mr.  Byron's 
idyllic  play,  "  Daisy  Farm."  This  piece  maintained  its  ground 
for  more  than  ninety  nights,  which  was  a  considerable  time  in  the 
era  before  the  prevalence  of  the  "long-run  "  system.  Mr.  Charles 
Warner  made  his  first  success  in  "  Daisy  Farm,"  and  Miss 
Fanny  Hughes,  too,  assisted  the  histrionic  efforts  of  the  author 
himself.  Relapsing  into  his  lighter  mood,  Mr.  Byron  wrote  a 
clever  burlesque  for  this  theatre,  called  "  Giselle,"  for  which  Mr. 
Hollingshead,  the  manager  of  the  still  new  Gaiety  Theatre,  lent 
the  services  of  Miss  Nelly  Farren. 

In  October,i87i,  a  noteworthy  dramatic  event  was  the  inaugura- 
tion here  of  the  stage  version  of  Wilkie  Collins'  melodramatic 
novel,  "  The  Woman  in  White."  The  adaptation  followed  toler- 
ably closely  the  lines  of  the  book,  and  the  interpretation  given  to 
it  caused  a  decisive  success.  The  double  part  of  the  heroines, 
mad  and  sane,  was  well  played  by  Miss  Ada  Dyas,  and  Marian 
Halcombe  was  impersonated  by  Mrs.  Charles  Viner,  now  Mrs. 
Arthur  Stirling.  Mr.  George  Vining  was  the  enigmatical  Italian, 
Count  Fosco,  and  the  "juvenile  lead  "  was  assigned  to  Mr.  Wybert 
Reeve.  After  a  while,  Mr.  Vining  fell  ill,  and  his  part  was  taken 
by  Mr.  Reeve,  who,  hitherto  known  chiefly  as  a  provincial  actor, 
had  made  a  successful  first  appearance  in  London  two  years  before 
at  the  Lyceum  as  John  Mildmay.  Now,  however,  a  more  favour- 
able opportunity  presented  itself,  and  the  Count  Fosco  of  Mr. 
Wybert  Reeve  achieved  great  popularity.  It  was,  indeed,  a  per- 

NEW  SERIES — VOL.   VII.  Q 


2o8  THE  THEATRE.  [APRIL i,  1886. 

formance  of  great  skill,  full  of  knowledge  of  stage  technique.     Mr. 
Reeve  looked  and  acted  the  part  to  the  life.      In  him  we  saw  the 
unwieldy  old  ex-revolutionary  tenderly  fond  of  his  pet  canaries, 
playfully  affectionate  to  his  wife's  melange ;    but,  notwithstanding, 
ruthless  in  the  prosecution  of  his   dark  intrigues,  ready  to  crush 
all  who  stood  in  his   path,   and   destined  finally  to  perish  at  the 
hands   of  the  emissaries   of    that   secret   society  which    he   had 
formerly   betrayed.      Mr.  Reeve   was  admirable  as  this   strange 
character,  and  a  long  list  of  performances,  begun  at  the  Olympic, 
shows  the  pleasure  which  audiences  have  found  in  his  acting.      It 
was  now  reserved  for  a  most  truthful  delineation  of  woman's  char- 
acter to  give  added  brilliancy  to  the  annals  of  the  Olympic.     This 
was  Miss  Ada  Cavendish,  who  had  been  already   acting  for  four 
years  in  serious  drama,  and  had  reached  a  high  place  among  the 
leading  ladies  of  the  London  stage.      Coming  to  this  house  early 
in  1873,  Miss  Cavendish  made  a  bold  attempt  to  be  ranked  among 
the  very  foremost  in  her  profession.     The  attempt  was  successful, 
and  the  gallery  of  heroines  received  an  important  addition.    "  The 
New  Magdalen,"  by  Mr.  Wilkie  Collins,   enabled  Miss  Cavendish 
to  put  forth  all  her  strength,   and  Mercy  Merrick,    as  represented 
by  her,  remains  one  of  the  most  striking — though,  perhaps,  not 
one   of  the   most  agreeable — characters   of   recent   melodrama. 
Some  people  have  objected   to  the  morality  of  this  play,  finding 
fault  with  the  apparent  glorification  of  the  courtesan  and  with  the 
premium  thus  offered  to   repentant  vice.      The  cogency  of  this 
argument  we  are  not  altogether  prepared  to  deny  ;  but  still,  as  a 
piece  of  forcible  and  often  touching  acting,    Miss   Cavendish's 
Mercy  Merrick  was  freely  recognised  to  have  been  of  a  very  high 
order.     The  skill  of  Mr.   Frank  Archer  added   to   the   success  of 
"  The  New  Magdalen,"  and  Miss  Ernstone  played  her  part  with 
pleasing,  natural  simplicity.     Ever  since  then,  the  announcement 
of  "  The  New  Magdalen,"   with  Miss  Cavendish's  name  in  the 
bills,  has  drawn  crowded  houses  all  over  the  country. 


APRIL  i,  1886]  PR^ETERITA  !  209 


Prseterita  ! 

Donee  non  alia  magis 
Arsisti  neque  erat  Lydia  post  Chloen ; 

Multi  Lydia  nominis 
Romana  vigui  clarior  Ilia  !  HORACE. 

WE  met  and  parted,  when  we  both  had  youth  ! 
Under  life's  finger-post !     Yes  !  you  and  I  ! 
You  were  on  pleasure  bent :  I  sought  the  truth, 
We  have  both  felt  the  darkness  of  love's  sky ! 
Men  with  their  faithlessness  have  tortured  you, 
I  have  known  women  false,  and  pure  as  well ; 
We  meet  again  !     I  look  to  heavens  blue, 
You  ring  despondently  fate's  dismal  knell ! 

You  meet  me  with  your  beauty  unimpaired, 

I  greet  you  with  dull  sorrow  in  my  face ; 
You,  with  your  haunting  face,  that  souls  ensnared — 

I  with  a  past,  no  praying  can  retrace  ! 
You  can  remember  nothing — you  are  fair  ! 

The  roses  all  are  dead  that  you  have  smelt ; 
You  sit  and  laugh  at  men  who  loved  your  hair — 

I  sigh  for  dear,  dead  kisses  I  have  felt ! 

I  pity  you  ;  you  only  smile  at  me — 

I  who  have  only  felt  what  you  have  found  ! 
You  calmly  face  despair  and  misery, 

I  scent  love's  violets  above  the  ground. 
Yet  you  have  lived  your  life,  as  I  have  done, 

And  led  men  on  to  love  you  with  despair  ; 
God  grant !  when  all  is  over,  there'll  be  one 

To  kiss  my  memory  and  breathe  one  prayer. 

No  taint  of  world  has  killed  the  woman  yet, 

It  beats  in  every  fibre  of  your  frame  ; 
I  have  forgiven  !  must  you  still  forget 

Love's  purity  in  Love's  absorbing  shame  ? 
You  can  afford  to  laugh — I  needs  must  pray ; 

Grey  mists  of  distance  clasp  the  landscape  green  ; 
Had  we  not  parted  at  life's  weary  way, 

Who  knows — we  neither  can — what  might  have  been  ? 
Ramsgate,  February,  1886.  C.  S. 

Q  2 


2io  THE     THEATRE.  [APRIL  i, 


A    LTHOUGH  the  unexampled  severity  of  the  weather  throughout  the 
IJL     past  month  proved  highly  prejudicial  to  the  interests  of  concert- 
givers    and    executant    artists,    some    few    musical    entertainments   of 
exceptional  merit  attracted  large  audiences,  and  were  crowned  with  entire 
success.     Chief  amongst  these  were  the  triumphant  rentvee  of  Signer  Piatti 
on  the  scene  of  his  unnumbered  glories,   with  physical  powers  happily 
unimpaired  by  the  terrible  accident  of  which  he   was  the  victim   some 
months  ago  ;  the  coalition  of  Madame  Norman-Neruda  and  Herr  Joachim, 
the  two  most  brilliant  stars  of  Mr.  Arthur  ChappelPs   constellation  of 
violinists  ;  the  perfect  playing  of  Mdlle.  Clotilde  Kleeberg,  who  has  at- 
tained the  topmost  heights  of  virtuosity,  and  is  perfectly  at  her  ease  in 
those  all  but  inaccessible  regions  ;   and  the  deft  and  delicate  pianism  of 
Signer  Albanesi,  at  whose  excellent  concert  Mr.  William  Shakespeare  put 
forth  all  the  charms  of  his  mellifluous  voice  and  incomparable  vocalism,  to 
the  delight  of  all  who  heard  him,  expressed  in  enthusiastic  plaudits,  despite 
the  restraints  of  etiquette  imposed  upon  the  audience  by  the  presence  of 
Royalty.     In  contrast  to  these  and  other  musical  successes,  achieved  in 
the  very  teeth  of  the  most  dire  east  wind  that  ever  swelled  the  mortality 
bills,  and  of  a  commercial  depression  such  as  London  has  not  suffered, 
until  this  spring,  within  my  remembrance,  a  dismal  failure,  culminating 
in  a  public  scandal  wholly  without  precedent  in  the   annals  of  Italian 
opera,  has  to  be  recorded  in  connection  with  the  past  month.     The 
histoire  intime  of  the  impresa  that  hired  Her  Majesty's  Theatre  a  few  weeks 
ago  has  yet  to  be  told — probably  in  a  court  of  justice — and  will  be  found, 
when  it  attains  publicity,  to  afford  some  very  curious  exemplifications  of 
human  disingenuousness  and  credulity.     All  that  need  be  said  about  it  in 
this  place  is  that  it  was  started  with  insufficient  pecuniary  means  ;  that  it 
engaged  vocalists  whose  presentation  on  the  stage  of  a  great  metropolitan 
theatre  was  an  insult  to  the  London  musical  public  ;  that  of  those  who 
trusted  to  its  promises — instrumentalists,  soloists,  chorus-singers,  super- 
numeraries omnium  generum,   carpenters,  scene-shifters,  &c.,  not  one  was 
paid  his  or  her  wages  ;  and  that  when  it  utterly  collapsed,  on  the  eighth 
night  of  its  brief  and  miserable  existence,  its  wretched  victims  appealed 
in  forma  pauperis  to  the  public  it  had  wronged  and  outraged,  entreating 
that  public  to  have  compassion  upon  their  sufferings,   and  to  give  them 
alms  wherewith  they  might  buy  bread  to  stay  the  pangs  of  hunger !     A 
more  piteous  spectacle  has  seldom  been  seen  than  that  which  was  dis- 
played upon  the  stage  of  Her  Majesty's  Theatre  on  the  night  of  March  6, 


APRIL  i,  1886.]  OUR    MUSICAL-BOX.  2ii 

iS86.  I  fear,  too,  that  this  disgraceful  episode  dealt  a  heavy  blow  at  the 
prospects  of  Italian  Opera  in  London.  They  were  melancholy  enough 
before  the  Carillon  scandal ;  now  they  are  lugubrious.  Non  ragioniam  di 
Jar,  ma  tad  e  passa. 


The  announcement  has  reached  me  that  Mr.  Hamilton  Clarke  is  about 
to  give  a  double  course  (one  to  ladies,  the  other  to  gentlemen)  of  twenty- 
four  lectures  on  the  Art  of  Composition  at  the  Royal  Polytechnic  Institu- 
tion during  the  coming  months  of  April,  May,  and  June.  Eight  of  these 
lectures  will  deal  with  orchestration,  a  subject  upon  which  few  living 
Englishmen  are  better  qualified  to  expatiate  with  profit  to  musical  students 
than  Mr.  Clarke,  who  has  achieved  high  distinction  both  as  a  conductor 
and  composer  of  orchestral  music.  The  excellence  of  the  musical  per- 
formances at  the  Lyceum,  whilst  under  his  direction,  has  not  been  yet 
forgotten  by  the  habitues  of  that  theatre.  Mr.  Clarke  is  a  thinker  and  an 
-enthusiast,  as  well  as  a  ripe  musician  ;  the  enterprise  he  has  undertaken 
is  by  no  means  a  light  one,  but,  unless  I  be  much  mistaken,  he  will  prove 
fully  equal  to  its  fulfilment.  What  his  immediate  aim  is  in  giving  the 
course  of  lectures  above  alluded  to  may  be  gathered  from  the  following 
extracts  from  a  letter  which  I  received  from  him  some  weeks  ago,  when 
.he  first  acquainted  me  with  his  intention  to  discourse  in  public  upon  the 
•"  mystery  "  in  which  he  is  so  profoundly  versed.  "Why  do  I  say  'the 
Art  of  Composition?'  "  he  wrote.  "  Because  since  the  days  of  Jubal,  as 
*far  as  I  know,  there  has  never  been  given  to  the  world  a  single  school- 
book  treating  of  the  artistic  side  of  composition.  ...  I  have  had  this 
design  under  consideration  ever  since  the  time  at  which  I  first  read  some 
of  the  stunted  and  pedantic  utterances  put  forward  in  books  on  musical 
theory.  My  wish  is,  according  to  my  modest  and  imperfect  lights,  to  give 
to  my  fellow-workers  in  musical  art  a  few  hints  calculated  to  show  them  a 
•ready  way  to  solve  certain  problems  which  authors  of  the  past  and  present 
have  rendered  obscure  by  enveloping  them  in  tangles  of  pompous 
phraseology,  the  outcome  of  bigoted  pedantry  and  pretentious  ignorance. 
I  wish  to  point  out  to  those  who  will  listen  to  me  that  there  are  certain 
paths  in  music  to  discover  which  is  only  vouchsafed  to  one  man  of  a  whole 
nation,  once  in  fifty  years,  or  may  be  a  century ;  and  which,  therefore, 
casual  students  will  do  well  not  to  seek  for.  Instead  of  giving  all  musical 
aspirants  to  understand  that  composition  is  an  '  elegant  accomplishment' 
which  can  be  acquired  by  the  aid  of  learned  books  and  judicious  teachers, 
I  want  to  offer  to  those  elect  who  have  in  them  the  divine  afflatus  a  good 
deal  of  careful  guidance  and  timely  assistance  in  such  efforts  as  they  may 
make  to  deliver  themselves  of  their  offspring,  and  thus  to  save  them  from 
wasting  their  time  in  fruitless  labour.  Touching  with  a  light  hand  upon 
the  ancient  dogmas  hitherto  held  essentially  necessary  to  the  achievement 
of  musical  salvation,  I  shall  not,  for  instance,  limit  myself  to  telling  my 
hearers  that  consecutive  fifths  are  to  be  avoided,  simply  because  they  are 
wrong  ;  but  shall  endeavour  to  demonstrate  why  that  particular  sequence 
is  objectionable,  when  it  results  from  a  composer's  ignorance  or  careless- 
ness, in  contrast  to  cases  in  which  it  has  been  used  by  great  minds  with 


212  THE  THEATRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886. 

excellent  effect.  Such,  roughly  sketched,  is  my  general  design.  I  will 
not  weary  you  with  indications  of  what  new  structures  I  hope  to  set  up,  or 
of  how  many  square  miles  of  venerable  edifices  I  hope  to  pull  down."  If 
Mr.  Hamilton  Clarke's  lectures  fulfil  the  promise  set  forth  in  the  above 
excerpts  from  his  letter,  they  can  hardly  fail  to  constitute  one  of  the  most 
interesting — not  to  say  sensational — musical  features  of  the  approaching 
season. 


Few  literary  feats  are   more   difficult  of  achievement   than  that   of 
rendering  in  our  language  the  exact    significance  and  feeling  of  any  of 
Richard  Wagner's  dramatic  poems,  whilst  maintaining  anything  like  a 
metrical  resemblance  between  the  translation  and  the  original.     In  one 
or  two  of  the  clever  imitations  of  his  libretti  that  have  hitherto  appeared 
in  print,  accuracy  of  reproduction,  in  connection  with  word-meanings,  has 
been  sacrificed  to  the  desire  to  observe  his  alliterative,  rhythmical  and 
rhyming  methods,    or  tricks.      The  results   have  been   ingenious,  but 
unsatisfactory — marvels  of  patient  contrivance,  wrought  in  a  humble  and 
loving  spirit,  but  failing  to  convey  to  the  English  mind  or  ear  an  English 
equivalent  to  the  Wagnerian  poetry,  which  is  certainly  no  less  remarkable 
an  utterance  of  genius  than  is  the  Wagnerian  music.     At  length,  how- 
ever, an  Englishman  has  come  to  the  front  with  a  translation  of  "  Tristan 
and  Isolde  " — perhaps  the  finest  of  Wagner's  poems — who  has  had  the 
courage  to  resist  the  temptations  assailing  an  interpreter  of  Wagnerian 
verse  in  the  shapes  of  alliteration,  rhythm,  and  rhyme,  and  to  give  us  the 
exact  meaning  of  every  line  and  word  occurring  in  the  original  libretto* 
Mr.  Frederick  Jameson,  a  German  scholar  of  no  ordinary  calibre,  and  an 
accomplished  musician  to  boot,   is  the  author  of  this  latest  addition  to 
our  Wagnerian  literature,  and  has  turned  out  a  noble  piece  of  work.    His 
sole  aim  has  been  to  render  "  Tristan  and  Isolde  "  exactly  into  English  ; 
as  he  frankly  admits,  he  has  made  no  attempt  to  imitate  the  metre  of  the 
original,  as  to  do  so  would  have  been  to  render  verbal  accuracy  impos- 
sible.    But  the  family  likeness  existing  between  the  German  and  English 
tongues  has  caused  many  of  Mr.  Jameson's  lines  to  fall  naturally  into 
rhythm.      In  a   prefatory  note   he   points  out  that   the   words   of  any 
Wagnerian  opera,  considered  apart  from  their  setting,  convey  a  very 
inadequate  idea  of  the  artistic  harmony  of  the  tone-poem's  whole  con- 
ception.     Through  the  agency  of  music,  the   composer   is  enabled  to 
retard  or  accelerate  the  action  of  his  play,  "  so  that  the  comparative 
length  of  scenes  in  reading  is  no  gauge  of  their  relative  duration  in 
performance.      Words   and   sentences,   moreover,  are  emphasised   and 
dwelt  upon  to  the  exact  extent  desired,  and  frequently  have  a  new  signi- 
ficance given  to  them  by  associations  awakened  by  means  of  musical 
phrases ;  while  pauses  are  prolonged,  on  the  other  hand,  in  a  manner 
impossible  in  spoken  drama."    The  music  of  a  Wagnerian  opera  is  not 
only  the  complement  of  the  text,  in  short  (and  vice-versa),  but  both  music 
and  words  are  the  outcome  of  the  same  inspiration,  and  either  is  neces- 
sarily incomplete  without  the  other.     To  those,  however,  who  are  unable 
to  read  "  Tristan  and  Isolde  "  in  German,  or  to  witness  its  performance 


APRIL  i,  1886.]  OUR  MUSICAL-BOX.  313 

in  its  entirety,  Mr.  Jameson's  faithful  and  spirited  translation  will  at  least 
impart  some  notion  of  the  nobility  and  beauty  of  that  admirable  drama. 


Talking  of  Wagner,  the  readers  of  THE  THEATRE  will  not  have  failed 
to  take  some  cognisance  of  the  controversy  that  has  lately  raged  in  the 
columns  of  the  Parisian  press  with  respect  to  the  proposed  production  of 
"  Lohengrin  "  at  the  Opera  House — a  controversy  in  which  some  of  the 
most  eminent  French  writers  of  the  day — Madame  Adam  amongst  their 
number — have  conspicuously  taken  part.  French  Chauvinism  has  so  far 
triumphed  in  this  unseemly  contest  as  to  cause  the  adjournment  sine  die 
of  the  production  in  question  ;  but  it  has  also  furnished  that  gifted 
litterateur  Catulle  Mende's  with  an  opportunity — of  which  he  has  availed 
himself  with  praiseworthy  courage — for  publishing  some  highly  interest- 
ing personal  reminiscences  of  the  great  Saxon  Master,  at  whose  house 
Mende's  was  a  frequent  visitor  when  Wagner  lived  at  Zurich.  I  need,  I 
think,  make  no  apology  for  reproducing  in  translation  part  of  one  of 
these  word-sketches,  which  recently  appeared  in  the  u  Annales  Politiques 
et  Litteraires  "  : — "  More  than  once,  calling  upon  Wagner  early  in  the 
forenoon,  we  found  him  arrayed  in  a  strange  costume,  which  he  especially 
affected  ;  a  loose  jacket  and  trousers,  made  of  gold-coloured  satin,  richly 
embroidered  with  flowers,  executed  in  beads.  He  was  passionately  fond 
of  lustrous  stuffs ;  his  drawing-room  and  study  teemed  with  silks  and 
velvets,  heaped  up  on  the  couches  and  chairs,  or  hanging  from  the  walls, 
their  only  function  being  a  purely  decorative  one.  To  gaze  upon  them 
gave  him  infinite  pleasure.  Whilst  awaiting  dinner,  which  was  always 
served  punctually  at  2  p.m.,  we  were  wont  to  talk  with  him  in  a  large 
bright  room,  the  four  windows  of  which  were  always  open  to  admit  the 
mountain  air.  During  these  conversations  he  never  sat  down  ;  indeed, 
I  do  not  remember  to  have  seen  him  seated,  save  at  table,  or  at  the 
piano.  He  would  talk  almost  incessantly,  however,  whilst  striding  up 
and  down  his  spacious  salon,  moving  the  chairs  about  from  one  spot  to 
another,  feeling  in  all  his  pockets  for  his  snuff-box,  which  he  had  invari- 
ably mislaid,  or  for  his  pince-nez,  which  was  sometimes  discovered  in  the 
strangest  places — once,  for  instance,  hanging  to  one  of  the  glass  prisms 
of  the  chandelier ;  his  velvet  cap,  all  on  one  side,  generally  pulled  down 
over  his  left  brow,  where  it  looked  like  a  black  cockscomb,  or  crumpled 
between  his  clasped  hands,  or  thrust  hurriedly  into  his  waistcoat  pocket, 
whence  he  would  again  nervously  pluck  it  forth  and  twist  it  into  all  sorts 
of  shapes  with  his  sinewy  fingers.  He  often  talked  about  Paris,  speaking 
of  it  as  '  a  city  which  he  loved,  because  he  had  both  hoped  and  suffered 
in  it'  ;  with  the  tenderness  and  anxiety  of  an  exile,  he  used  to  enquire 
about  the  streets  in  which  he  had  resided,  and  in  which  had  for  the 
most  part  suffered  considerable  changes  under  the  Haussman  regime.  I 
saw  his  eyes  fill  with  tears  one  day  when  he  was  told  that  a  corner  house 
of  a  certain  street  had  been  pulled  down.  When  he  was  excited — which 
was  really  his  chronic  condition — a  torrent  of  talk  flowed  from  his  lips  ; 
lofty  thoughts,  plays  upon  words,  paradoxes,  anecdotes,  sometimes  senti- 
mental, sometimes  bitter,  sometimes  purely  comic  or  fanciful,  succeeded 


2i4  THE    THEATRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886. 

one  another  uninterruptedly.  Now  giving  way  to  loud  outbursts  of 
uncontrollable  merriment,  and  again  speaking  in  hushed  tone?,  with 
tears  in  his  voice,  then  breaking  out  into  a  rapture  of  prophetic  ecstacy, 
he  delivered  monologues  no  less  remarkable  for  their  variety  of  subject 
than  for  their  strong  emotional  contrasts.  In  one,  which  I  particularly 
remember,  he  successively  touched  upon  the  dramatic  plots  he  had  com- 
posed in  his  dreams,  on  Parsifal,  the  King  of  Bavaria,  the  tricks  which 
Jewish  orchestral  conductors  had  played  him,  the  subscribers  to  the 
Paris  Opera  House  who  had  hissed  down  Tannhaeuser,  Madame  de 
Metternich,  Rossini,  'the  most  lavishly  endowed  of  all  musicians'  ;  the 
beggarly  music-publishers,  the  theatre  he  intended  to  build  '  on  a  hill 
near  a  town/  and  to  which  people  should  throng  from  every  country  of 
Christendom  ;  Sebastian  Bach,  Auber  (who  had  been  very  kind  to  him), 
and  his  resolve  to  write  a  comedy  intituled  '  Luther's  Wedding.'  Besides, 
he  told  us  at  least  twenty  anecdotes  about  his  political  adventures  in 
Dresden,  the  visions  of  his  childhood,  his  intercourse  with  Weber,  his 
acquaintanceship  with  Madame  Schroeder-Devrient — *  dear,  most  admir- 
able woman,'  he  said,  with  a  heavy  sigh — and  the  death  of  Schnorr,  the 
tenor  who  created  the  vole  of  Tristan,  of  whom  he  spoke  with  the  deepest 
emotion.  We  were  completely  under  his  spell ;  we  laughed  and  wept 
with  him  by  turns  ;  we  saw  the  visions  that  he  had  seen  ;  we  were  carried 
away  and  overpowered  by  the  terrors  and  charms  of  his  impetuous 
eloquence." 


I  have  often  observed  that  the  German-American  of  the  second  or,  at 
most,  third  generation  is  far  more  prone  to  be  down  upon  the  institutions 
artistic  and  social  as  well  as  political,  of  the  Fatherland  than  is  the 
Yankee  of  Anglo-Saxon  or  Celtic  extraction.  This  curious  characteristic 
has  found  conspicuous  exemplification  quite  lately  in  the  person  of  Mr. 
Florsheim,  the  editor  of  the  New  York  Musical  Courier,  whose  name 
leaves  no  doubt  as  to  the  nationality  of  his  ancestors.  This  able  writer, 
has  been  taking  a  holiday  in  the  land  of  music  and  sauerkraut,  poetry  and 
liver-sausage,  and  has  come  to  the  conclusion  that,  as  far  as  musical 
culture  is  concerned,  Berlin  is  not  "in  it"  with  New  York,  or,  for  that 
matter,  Germany  with  America.  "  In  the  German  capital,"  he  writes, 
'•'  I  was  present  at  musical  performances,  applauded  by  the  public  and 
lauded  by  the  press,  which  would  scarcely  have  been  tolerated  in  New 
York,  where  we  are  accustomed  to  a  higher  standard  of  executant  pro- 
ficiency than  are  Berlin  audiences,  and  therefore  insist  upon  being 
supplied  with  good  vocal  and  instrumental  performances.  During  the 
forthcoming  season  we  shall  certainly  enjoy  more  frequent  opportunities 
of  hearing  musical  novelties,  adequately  performed,  than  will  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  German  capital ;  moreover,  we  shall  be  catered  for  by  Italian 
and  German,  as  well  as  by  English  opera  companies.  The  concerts  given 
in  New  York  are  of  far  better  quality  than  those  provided  for  German 
audiences;  musical  entertainments  of  the  importance,  completeness,  and 
grandeur  that  characterise  the  Philharmonic  Concerts  directed  by 
Theodore  Thomas  are  seldom,  if  ever,  organised  in  Berlin.  We  are  also 


APRIL  i,  i886.]  OUR    MUSICAL-BOX.  215 

far  ahead  of  the  Berliners  in  the  number  of  the  classical  concerts  given  in 
New  York  during  our  annual  musical  season.  With  respect,  therefore, 
to  our  facilities  for  enjoying  the  most  precious  treasures  of  the  divine  art, 
as  well  as  to  many  other  privileges  which  perhaps  we  do  not  sufficiently 
appreciate,  bt  us  be  thankful  that  our  lot  is  cast  in  America  instead  of 
in  Germany  !  "  There  is  solid  foundation  in  fact  for  the  comparisons  in- 
stituted by  Mr.  Florsheim  between  New  York  and  Berlin,  to  the  latter's 
disadvantage  ;  but  such  disagreeable  truths  about  the  musical  decadence 
of  the  Fatherland,  which  is  only  too  manifest  in  the  creative  as  well  as  the 
executant  branch  of  the  art  alluded  to,  fall  with  an  ill  grace  from  the 
mouth  of  one  whose  patronymic  proves  him  to  be  a  German  by  blood  if 
not  by  speech. 


The    extraordinary    bitterness    and  persistency  of   Heinrich    Heine  s 
attacks  upon  Meyerbeer  in  verse  and  prose  during  the  last  few  years  of 
the  poet's  life  have  remained  unexplained  to  the  public  at  large  until  quite 
lately,  when  certain  revelations  made  to  the  editor  of  the  Neue  Musikalische 
Zeitungby  M.  Julia,  the  trusted  friend  of  Heine's  widow,   cleared  up  the 
mystery.     It  appears  that,  when  the  intimacy  of  Meyerbeer  and  Heine 
was  at  its  zenith,  the  latter  wrote  what  he  called  a  "Dance-Poem,"  and 
entrusted  it  to  his  friend — at  that  time  all-powerful  in  Berlin — to  arrange 
and  bring  it  out  as  a  ballet  at  the  Royal  Opera  House.     Months  went  on, 
but  nothing  was  heard  of  "  Mephistophela" — thus  the  poem  was  named 
—and  Meyerbeer  took  no  notice  of  Heine's  enquiries  respecting  its  fate. 
Eventually,  however,  it  was  returned  to  him,  and  immediately  afterwards 
the  ballet  "  Satanella"— constructed  on  the  lines  of  "  Mephistophela" — 
was  produced  at  Berlin.       Heine  soon  found   out  that  it  was  his   crony 
Leibmann  Beer  (Meyerbeer)  who  had  played  him  this  dirty  trick,  and 
forthwith   commenced  a    pen-and-ink  war  upon  him,  which  lasted    for 
several  years,     Shortly  before  Heine's  death,  Meyerbeer  came  to   Paris, 
and,  hearing  of  Heine's  sufferings,  which  were  terrible,  went  to   see  him. 
Heine  received  him  cordially,  and  it  was  agreed  that  the  old  grievance 
should  be  forgiven  and  forgotten.  A  fresh  one,  however,  speedily  accrued, 
reviving  and  even  augmenting  Heine's  resentment.       In  former  years  the 
poet  and  his  wife  had  enjoyed  free  access  to  Meyerbeer's  box  at  the  Opera 
House ;  and  after  the  grand  reconciliation  Meyerbeer  offered  to  renew 
this  privilege.       Next  day  he  forwarded  to  the  Heines  two  tickets,  which, 
however,  proved  to  be  made  out  for  places  in  a  second  tier   corner  box, 
usually  occupied  by  females  of  more  than  doubtful  virtue.      The  sending 
of  these  objectionable  vouchers  eventually  turned  out  to  have  been  a  mere 
box-office  blunder ;  but  Heine  chose  to  consider  it  a  deadly  personal 
insult,  offered  to  him  intentionally  by  Meyerbeer,  and   thenceforth   until 
the  day  of  his  death,  which  occurred  not  long  afterwards,  he  assailed  the 
composer  daily  with  all  the  most  venomous  shafts  of  his  literary  quiver. 
Amongst  other  invectives  to  which  he  gave  utterance  in  print  at  that  time 
was  the  following : — "  I  consider  the  grunting  of  pigs,   or  their   squeals 
when  they  are  about  to  be  slaughtered,  objectionable  noises,  but  I  prefer 
them  to  the  music  of  the  renowned  maestro  Beermaier !  "      When  Heine 


216  THE    THEATRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886' 

died,  Meyerbeer  inquired  of  the  poet's  widow  whether  she  had  found 
amongst  her  late  husband's  MSS.  any  verses  hostile  to  him  (Meyerbeer), 
and,  should  any  exist,  offered  to  buy  them  of  her.  Madame  Heine, 
however,  would  not  take  money  for  the  anti-Meyerbeerian  lampoons 
she  foundj  amongst  Heine's  papers,  but  very  generously  destroyed 
them. 


I  hear  that  Johann  Strauss  is  about  to  embody  the  musical  reminiscences 
of  his  youth  in  an  opera,  the  leading  motivi  of  which  are  to  be  revivals  of 
dance-tunes  composed  by  him  when  he  was  a  lad,  studying  engineering 
against  his  will.  His  boyhood,  as  well  as  that  of  his  brothers 
Joseph  and  Edward,  was  spent  under  the  roof  that  sheltered  his  renowned 
father,  whom,  however,  he  seldom  saw ;  for  his  parents  were  separated* 
and  for  many  years  lived  in  different  storeys  of  the  same  house,  the  Strauss 
boys  having  been  judicially  assigned  to  their  mother's  care.  All  three 
developed  remarkable  musical  ability  at  an  early  age,  and,  when  still  in 
round  jackets,  were  familiar  figures  in  several  musical  salons  of  Vienna, 
where  they  constantly  played  their  father's  compositions,  and  sometimes 
their  own.  Their  musical  feats  of  course  reached  old  Strauss's  ears, 
much  to  his  gratification :  but  he  made  no  sign  until,  several  months 
having  elapsed  since  he  first  became  aware  that  they  were  acquiring 
celebrity,  it  struck  him  one  day  as  absurd  and  unnatural  that  he  should  be 
about  the  only  musician  in  the  Kaiserstadt  who  had  never  heard  any  of 
his  own  sons'  compositions.  Forthwith  he  sent  a  message  to  his  wife, 
who  occupied  apartments  above  his  own,  but  two  flights  higher,  to  the 
effect  that  he  would  esteem  it  a  favour  if  she  would  permit  his  sons  to  pay 
him  a  visit.  His  request  was  granted  at  once,  and  the  three  boys  were 
ushered  into  their  father's  presence.  But,  strange  to  say,  the  "  Waltz 
King  "  (as  the  Viennese  had  christened  Strauss  the  elder)  had  no  piano- 
forte in  his  rooms.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  After  some  hesitation,  he 
decided  upon  sending  another  message  upstairs  to  ask  Mamma  Strauss  to 
lend  him  her  piano  for  an  hour  or  two.  Presently  down  came  the  piano, 
and  the  boys  began  to  play — first  their  father's  music,  and  then  their  own. 
The  old  man's  delight  was  unbounded  ;  he  embraced  them  over  and  over 
again,  gave  them  his  blessing,  and  then  sent  them  back  to  [their  mother, 
together  with  the  piano  and  his  "  compliments  and  thanks  !  " 


During  the  past  month  I  received  a  good  many  new  musical  publica- 
tions calling  for  unfavourable  mention,  from  which,  however,  I  beg  leave 
to  refrain,  and  two  pretty  P.F.  compositions ;  the  one,  a  waltz,  called 
"  Mariquita  "  (Morley  and  Co.),  by  Herbert  Bering,  a  musical  Etonian  of 
no  inconsiderable  promise,  and  the  other  a  morfeau  d'occasion,  hight 
"  Jollification  "  (Ascherberg  and  Co.),  by  Arthur  Le  Jeune.  The  latter  is 
provided,  as  an  extra  attraction,  with  a  humouristic  title-page,  uncom- 
monly well  executed. 

WM.  BEATTY^KINGSTON. 


APRIL  i,  1886.]  OUR  PLA  Y-BOX.  .     217 


©ut 


"SISTER    MARY." 

A  new  ]il;iy,  in  four  acts,  by  Wilson  Barrett  and  Clement  Scott. 
Produced  at  the  Theatre  Royal,  Brighton,  on  Monday, 
March  8,  1886. 


Captain  Walter  Leigh  ...  Mr.  LEONARD  BOYNE. 

"  Sandy  "  Dyson    Mr.  H.  COOPER  CLIFFE. 

Colonel  Malcolm Mr.  WILLIAM  HOLMAN. 

Harry  Reade   Miss  PIKEBE  CARLO. 

Jack  Maddison  Mr.  A.  T.  DARWIN. 

Jack  Davis   Mr.  H.  FENWICK. 

Bill  Dredge Mr.  H.  V.  LAURENCE. 

Corporal  Molloy    Mr.  R.  DALTON. 


Rose  Reade  Miss  MAGOIB  I  f 

Miss  Kate  Malcolm  ...  Miss  BLANCHE  HORLOCK. 

Miss  Lucy  Carrol Mrs.  A.  M.  MOORE. 

Miss  Arabella  Perkins  Miss  MARIE  FRASER. 

Miss  Agatha  Malcolm  Mrs.  CANNINUK. 

Charity  Binks Miss  RKTTA  WALTON. 

Susan    Mrs.  CARLO. 

Miss  Mary  Lisle Miss  LINOARD. 


"Sister  Mary"  is  one  of  the  best  of  modern  plays.  The  story  is 
original,  pretty,  and  well  told  ;  while  the  dialogue  is  of  more  than 
common  merit.  The  "poetical  justice  "  of  the  piece  has  been  called 
into  question,  but  this  subject  is  discussed  on  another  page  of  this 
number.  Here  is  the  story  of  the  drama  : — 

The  scene  of  the  first  of  the  four  acts  is  laid  in  the  summer  time  at 
Rivermead,  on  the  Thames,  where  resides  Mrs.  Rose  Reade,  a  pretty, 
interesting  woman,  who  has  to  support  an  only  child  by  means  of 
dressmaking.  She  has  attracted  the  attention  of  Colonel  Malcolm's 
niece,  Miss  Mary  Lisle,  generally  known  as  Sister  Mary,  and  warmly 
loved  by  all  her  neighbours  for  her  goodness  of  heart  and  simplicity 
of  manner.  She  offers  to  educate  Mrs.  Reade's  boy,  and,  in  a  pretty 
and  touching  scene,  elicits  from  her  the  confession  that  she  was  a 
mother  without  being  a  wife — that,  in  fact,  her  boy  is  illegitimate. 
She  was  ruined  years  ago  by  a  young  officer  who  has  not  contributed 
to  her  support,  because  he  could  not  find  her  after  her  disgrace.  Mary 
swears  to  befriend  the  repentant  woman,  come  what  may.  They  are 
to  be  friends  for  life.  Scarcely  has  Mary  left  her  friend,  when  a 
scoundrel  named  Davis  enters,  and,  to  his  surprise,  finds  in  Rose 
Reade,  nee  Fisher,  the  girl  whom  he  had  loved  all  his  life,  and  whom, 
even  now,  he  is  anxious  to  marry.  Rose  indignantly  refuses  to 
listen  to  him,  and  he  threatens  to  tell  the  whole  village  of  her  shame, 
when  Miss  Lisle  enters.  She  is  on  the  point  of  being  grossly  insulted, 
when  Captain  Walter  Leigh,  unseen  by  Rose,  enters  and  strikes  Davis 
on  the  wrist,  bidding  Mary  go  home.  This  Leigh  is  a  morose,  brandy- 
drinking  fellow,  who  seems  on  the  verge  of  destruction  when  he  meets, 
in  an  early  part  of  this  act,  Mary  Lisle,  who  induces  him  to  give  her 
the  brandy  from  his  flask  instead  of  drinking  it  himself.  The  woman 
is  interested  in  the  strange,  despondent  man,  while  he  is  attracted  by 
the  beauty  and  purity  of  the  woman.  The  sympathy  thus  created 
between  them  is  made  the  stronger  by  the  situation  at  the  end  of  the 
act,  in  which  Leigh  saves  Mary  from  the  insults  of  Davis.  The  scene 
of  the  second  act — the  prettiest,  most  effective,  and  best  written  in 


218  THE  THEATRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886. 

the  play — is  laid  in  a  lovely  glen  in  North  Wales.  Leigh  has  com- 
pletely reformed,  volunteered  in  the  army,  and  gloriously  distinguished 
himself.  He  is  painting  in  the  glen  when  he  meets  Mary  once  more. 
She  is  on  a  visit  with  relations,  and  has  never  seen  Leigh  since  her 
sudden  meeting  and  parting  with  him  twelve  months  before  at  River- 
mead.  A  charming  scene  occurs  between  Leigh  and  Mary.  Neither 
professes  love,  but  it  is  pretty  clear  what  it  will  lead  to.  He  owes  all 
his  success  in  life  to  her  influence  ;  she  is  charmed  that  she  has  made 
a  hero  out  of  a  rake.  They  depart,  in  the  summer  sunset,  full  of  un- 
expressed love.  Scarcely  has  Mary  gone  when  Leigh  remembers  that 
two  hulking  tramps — one  of  whom  was  Davis — have  gone  in  the  same 
direction  that  she  has  taken.  Leigh  follows,  but  misses  Mary,  and 
the  girl  re-enters,  followed  by  the  desperate  tramps.  They  are  pro- 
ceeding to  rob  and  assault  her  when  Leigh  comes  to  the  rescue,  and 
a  desperate  fight  occurs,  in  which  Leigh's  arm  is  broken.  Assistance 
arrives,  the  scoundrels  are  secured,  and  as  Mary  bends  over  Walter 
Leigh  in  pity  and  admiration  he  tells  her  that  he  would  give  his  life 
for  her.  The  third  act  takes  place  at  the  country  seat  of  Colonel 
Malcolm.  It  is  the  wedding  morning  of  Sister  Mary  and  Walter 
Leigh.  By  a  happy  accident  bride  and  bridegroom  meet.  They 
renew  their  love  pledges  just  before  meeting  at  the  altar,  and  Leigh, 
who  has  had  misgivings  regarding  a  certain  Rose,  who  had  been 
ruined  years  ago,  stifles  his  conscience,  and  tells  Mary  that  he  has 
never  loved  before.  A  visitor  is  announced,  and  Leigh  goes  away. 
The  visitor  is  Rose  Reade,  who  now  wishes  Sister  Mary  to  educate 
her  boy.  Sister  Mary  consents,  but  insists  upon  knowing  the  name 
•of  the  boy's  father.  It  is  Walter  Leigh.  Mary  is  at  first  paralysed 
with  the  news.  But  she  makes  up  her  mind  to  take  the  boy,  and 
when  Leigh  returns  once  more  she  tells  him  the  story  and  dismisses 
him,  a  heart-broken  man,  as  she  falls  fainting  at  the  sound  of  the  bells 
ringing  for  a  wedding  that  is  not  to  take  place.  The  scene  of  the 
fourth  act  is  an  outpost  improvised  fort  at  the  Cape  during  the  Boer 
campaign.  It  is  a  very  dangerous  position,  and  Captain  Leigh  has 
just  been  appointed  to  command  it.  Sister  Mary  is  at  the  war, 
attached  as  a  hospital  nurse  to  the  ambulance.  Her  relations  with 
Leigh  are  strained.  At  an  adjacent  farm,  a  missionary  station,  Rose 
Reade  happens  to  be,  and  there  she  is  guarded  by  Sergeant  Davis, 
the  tramp  in  former  acts,  who  has  reformed,  enlisted,  and  still  loves 
his  old  flame.  Rose  arrives  with  an  escort  in  search  of  hospital  sup- 
plies. Several  touching  scenes  follow  between  the  women,  when 
Rose  departs  with  the  escort  on  her  way  back  to  the  farm.  They 
have  not  got  far  when  it  is  signalled  that  the  escort  has  been  attacked. 
Not  a  moment  is  to  be  lost.  Captain  Leigh  is  in  a  dilemma.  Shall 
he  go  and  rescue  Rose,  a  "  forlorn  hope,"  and  leave  the  fort  where 
Mary  is  unprotected  ?  Shall  he  save  one  woman  at  the  expense  of 
the  other  ?  His  duty  is  to  both  ;  his  love  is  with  one.  Urged  by 
Mary,  he  starts  with  a  small  force  to  try  to  beat  back  the  rebels,  and 
to  go  to  almost  certain  death.  He  takes  farewell  of  all  he  loves,  and 


APR. LI,  1886.]  OUR  PLAY-i;<)\'.  219 

sets  out.  Great  excitement  prevails  in  the  fort.  If  Leigh  fails,  they 
will  all  be  killed.  But  Leigh  turns  the  rebels,  and  is  in  pursuit.  Into 
the  terrified  fort  comes  Sergeant  Davis  with  a  pathetic  story.  Poor 
Rose  was  the  first  to  fall,  and  she  died  commending  her  boy  to  Mary 
and  begging  her  to  forgive  the  man  who  loved  her  so.  Leigh  behaved 
like  a  hero,  and  saved  the  life  of  Davis  with  the  very  arm  that  Davis 
once  broke.  At  last  Leigh  arrives  back  at  the  little  fortress,  safe  and 
sound.  He  is  received  with  ringing  cheers  by  his  comrades,  and  it  is 
strongly  hinted  that  no  long  time  will  pass  before  he  marries  Sister 
Mary. 

It  is  fortunate  that  the  part  of  the  heroine  in  this  play  is  allotted  to 
so  admirable  an  artist  as  Miss  Lingard,  an  actress  capable  of  power- 
fully portraying  emotion  without  becoming  maudlin.  The  aspect  of 
womanliness  and  goodness  is  also  excellently  expressed  throughout  by 
Miss  Lingard  in  a  performance  which  is  remarkable  for  its  thorough 
naturalness.  The  impersonation  is  as  pretty  as  it  is  pathetic,  and  as 
powerful,  where  power  is  necessary,  as  it  is  pathetic.  High  praise 
is  due  to  Mr.  Leonard  Boyne  for  his  consistent,  intelligent  rendering 
of  Walter  Leigh.  He  understands  the  character  exactly.  He  has 
got  inside  it,  and  the  result  is  a  perfect  presentation  of  the  character 
as  it  has  been  conceived  by  the  authors.  On  the  first  night,  in 
Brighton,  Mr.  Boyne  was  decidedly  too  subdued  in  his  acting.  He 
played  in  too  low  a  key.  I  have  since  seen  "  Sister  Mary ''  in 
Liverpool,  and  can  assure  those  critics  who  fell  foul  of  Mr.  Boyne's 
"  reserved  force  "  that  his  performance  is  now  as  free,  as  bold,  as 
unrestrained,  as  it  is  thoughtful,  impressive,  and  effective.  Mr. 
Cooper  Cliffe  is  agreeably  light  and  easy  and  of  great  service  as 
Dyson,  and  Miss  Maggie  Hunt  is  the  most  interesting  Rose  Reade 
imaginable.  A  brilliant  hit  has  been  made  by  Miss  Retta  Walton, 
whose  clever  acting  in  the  small  part  of  Charity  Binks  makes  her  a 
conspicuous  and  welcome  figure  in  the  play.  Another  small  part, 
that  of  the  coquettish  old  maid,  Miss  Agatha  Malcolm,  is  entrusted 
to  the  experience  of  Mrs.  G.  Canninge.  The  Colonel  Malcolm  of  Mr. 
William  Holman  is  of  service  to  the  play,  and  the  tramps  are  well 
represented  by  Messrs.  H.  Fenwick  and  H.  V.  Laurence.  Bright, 
lively  Kate  Malcolm  is  played  by  a  new,  pretty,  and  promising 
young  actress,  Miss  Blanche  Horlock,  one  of  the  best 
ingenues  I  have  seen.  Miss  Horlock  should  have  a  successful 
future  before  her.  She  has  everything  in  her  favour,  but  she 
would  do  well  at  this  early  stage  of  her  career  to  cultivate  a 
more  distinct  and  thoughtful  delivery,  and  to  avoid  that  fault  so 
common  amongst  actors  to-day  of  scarcely  sounding  the  last  word  in  a 
sentence.  Young  Harry  Reade  is  allotted  to  an  intelligent  child  actress, 
Miss  Phoebe  Carlo.  Mr.  A.  T.  Darwin,  Mrs.  Augustus  Moore,  and 
Miss  Marie  Fraser  have  little  to  do,  but  do  that  little  well. 

AUSTIN  BRERETON. 


220  THE    THE  A  TRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886. 

"DOO,  BROWN    AND    CO." 

An  original  farce,  in  three  acts,  by  C.  M.  RAE. 
Produced  at  the  Vaudeville  Theatre  on  Thursday,  March  11,1886. 


Montague  Doo 

Major  Rufus  Peppercorn. 

Indigo  Leo 

John  Dobbins 
Philander  Spiff  kins... 
Paolo  Romboli 


Mr.  THOMAS  THORNE. 
Mr.  CHARLES  GROVES. 
Mr.  CHARLES  GLESNY. 
Mr.  FRED.  THORNE. 
Mr.  E.  M.  ROBSON. 
Mr.  J.  WHEATMAN. 


Pounds         Mr.  FULLER  MELLISH. 

Mrs.  Peppercorn     Miss    SOPHIE  LARKIN. 

Lily  Forrester         Miss  HELEN  FORSYTH. 

Eveline  Doo Miss  MAUDE  MILLET. 

Susan...  .  Miss  LOUISA  PEACH. 


In  this  lively,  obstreperous  piece  what  is  called  "  farcical 
comedy,"  has  been  carried  to  the  extremest  verge.  "Confusion" 
itself,  with  the  adventures  of  its  baby  concealed  in  a  cabinet,  was 
mild  and  tame  compared  with  this.  We  may,  indeed,  be  on  the  eve 
of  a  new  departure,  having  exhausted  the  catalogue  of  trivial 
mistakes,  concealment  in  rooms,  &c.  In  this  boisterous  revel,  where 
the  fun  never  flags,  we  have  these  ingredients : — A  lay  figure  of  a 
Roman  Emperor  in  a  red  robe,  whose  place  is  taken  by  two  of  the 
characters  in  succession  ;  a  revolver  is  fired  by  a  fierce  major,  and 
the  original  lay  figure  falls  prone  ;  a  lady  is  locked  up  in  a  room,  and, 
to  make  her  security  yet  more  secure,  the  key  is  thrown  into  the  fire, 
whence  it  is  removed  and  placed  in  the  door,  burning,  of  course,  the 
fingers  of  anyone  that  touches  it ;  fire-eating  major  fires  into  his  own 
toe;  a  picture,  "  by  Rubens,"  is  fitted  on  a  picture  dealer's  head, 
like  a  horse  collar ;  another  performer  puts  his  own  face  in  the  place 
of  the  portrait,  as  Mrs.  Bancroft  does  in  "  Masks  and  Faces,"  only 
here  an  angry  sister  draws  a  streak  of  black  paint  across  the  face 
(certainly  we  think  too  lightly  of  these  minor  disagreeables, 
which  add  to  the  discomforts  of  the  players'  life) ;  duels  are  fought 
with  knives  and  forks — all  of  which  elements  tend  to  make  the  fun  fast 
and  furious,  after  the  fashion  of  the  Palais  Royal.  That  this  piece  is 
of  French  origin  has  been  pointed  out,  for  Mr.  Rae  is  now  the  chief 
and  most  successful  adaptor  of  French  dainties.  Amateurs  owe  him 
what  is  perhaps  the  most  popular  and  oftenest  acted  of  drawing- 
room  plays — "  A  Fair  Encounter  " ;  and  "  The  Man  with  Three  Wives  " 
now  runs — gallops  rather — at  the  Criterion.  The  origin  of  the 
piece  would  be  plain  from  a  single  passage,  where  one  of  the  characters 
is  always  saying  of  his  employer,  "  Such  an  artist !  such  a  photo- 
grapher !"  which  is  an  un-English  phrase — "  Quel  artiste  !  Quel — "  &c. 

Mr.  Thome  played,  as  he  always  does,  with  much  point  and 
"  reserved  force  "  of  drollery.  Like  Dean  Swift,  who  would  write  in 
a  Brown  study,  or  Garrick,  who  would  "  act  a  gridiron,"  Mr.  Thorne 
can  make  a  character  out  of  anything.  Miss  Millett,  who  played  his 
daughter,  acted  with  an  intelligence  surprising  in  one  who  may  be 
considered,  without  flattery,  the  prettiest  of  our  young  actresses.  It 
was  preceded  by  Mr.  Calmour's  interesting  short  piece,  "Cupid's 
Messenger,"  now  running  beyond  its  hundredth  night.  It  is  carried 
through  by  Miss  Mary  Rorke,  who  plays  her  part  in  a  very  dashing, 
spirited  way. 

PERCY  FITZGERALD. 


APRIL  i,  I886.J  OUR  PLAY-BOX.  221 

MRS.     LANGTRY    AS     "  PAULINE." 

There  is  a  curious  unexplained  attraction  in  the  evergreen  play  of  "  The 
Lady  of  Lyons"  which,  like  "The  Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  pleases  in  youth 
as  in  age.  Every  actor  and  actress  of  good  looks  pants  for  the  oppor- 
tunity to  figure  as  the  truly  romantic  hero  or  heroine,  though  the 
former,  when  played  with  rapturous  passion,  not  with  the  "  force  "  stored 
in  accumulators,  engrosses  all  the  effects  and  applause.  Familiar  as 
the  old  piece  is,  it  is  impossible  not  to  follow  it  with  interest,  so  workman- 
like is  the  construction,  while  every  character  is  telling  in  its  way. 

One  of  the  points  to  be  admired  in  Mrs.  Langtry  is  a  certain  force  of 
character,  a  perseverance  joined  with  a  sagacity  in  exploiting  her  gifts, 
which  seems  likely   to  lead   her  on  to  fortune.     To   see  a  good  man 
struggling  with  fortune  is,  we  are  told,  an  ennobling  spectacle  ;  but  to 
follow  a  beautiful  and  intelligent  woman  in  her  pilgrimage  over  the  sharp 
stones  of  the  histrionic  road  is  more  interesting  to  even  a  cynical  ob- 
server.    Month  by  month  she  gains,  and  hostile  critics  are  softened  and 
gratified  by  such  painstaking  exertion.      She   is  gradually  finding  the 
measure  of  her  capacity ;  and  little  failures,  such  as  attempting  bursts  of 
obstreperous  emotion,  have  shown  her  that  there  weakness  lies.     On  such 
occasion  her  voice  escapes  from  control,  and  acquires  a  rather  inharmo- 
nious diapason.     But  at  this  moment  it  may  be  said  that  if  we  take  our 
regular  actresses — few  enough,  and  compare  her  with  them,    faults  and 
all — it  must  be  owned  that  she  has  a  power  of  interesting  and  giving 
pleasure  by  her  tones  and  movements,  that  is  one  of  the  secrets  of  dramatic 
expression.     Into  her  eyes  and  face  she  can  call  at  times  a  soft  dreami- 
ness and  languor,   opposed  to  the  hard  reality  of  expression,  which  so 
many  affect;  and  there  is  a  sweetness  of  tone  in  her  utterance  that  is 
singularly  welcome.     Pauline  is  certainly  the  character  that  suits  her  best 
— from  its  gentleness,  devotion,  and  womanly  grace.     It  is,  besides,  a 
charmingly  sympathetic  character,  always  high  in  favour  with  audiences. 
Not  less  attractive  is  it  because  of  the  high-waisted  costumes,  which  some 
hold  to  be  ugly,  but  are  certainly  classical  and  pleasing  to  the  eye.     Her 
first  dress  was  white,  with  delicately-embroidered  borders — designed,  as 
were  the  others,  by  Mr.  Harper  Pennington.  These  "robes"  helped  much 
in  the  series  of  graceful  and  natural  postures  assumed  during  the  play. 
There  were  many  passages  where  the  heroine  has  to  be  at  rest,  while 
others     move     and    speak,    and    she     exhibited    some     very     natural 
and    appropriate    "  by-play,"    as     it     is     termed,    always     a     difficult 
sort   of    exhibition.     Indeed,   in   all    the   unobtrusive     emotional   pas- 
sages   where  love,    womanly    interest,    and   sympathy    were    at    work 
nothing  could  be  better ;    there  was  only  one  passage  where  she  wrought 
herself  up  to  a  studied  burst,  when  the  effect  was  rather  artificial  and 
declamatory.     The  whole  play  was  got  up  with  due  taste,  and  without 
obtrusive  adornments.     How  stirring  always  is  the  close  of  the  fourth 
act,  when  the  hero  goes  to  the  wars,  and  the  Marseillaise,  ever  stirring 
and  kindling,  is  heard  without — a  situation  "  cribbed,"  it  must  be  said,  in 
spite  of  de  mortuis,  by  the  late  Mr.  Robertson  for  the  most  stirring  scene 
in  "  Ours."      Mr.  Coghlan  was  a  pleasing  and  judicious  Claude,  with 


222  THE  THEA'IRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886. 

much  art,  abolishing  or  sinking  the  tinsel  raptures  which  so  verge  on  the 
ridiculous  when  mouthed  secundum  artem.  This  sort  of  reading  is,  in  my 
opinion,  immense  improvement  on  the  old  school  of  ranters — the  robustious, 
bare-necked,  red-necked  veteran,  who  ludicrously  bounds  in,  after 
winning  the  prize,  with  a  "  Mother,  I  have  won  the  prize  !  "  There 
remains,  however,  the  famous  "  Dos't  like  the  picture?"  which  no 
ingenious  reserving  of  force  will  get  over.  Claude's  costume  in  the  first  act, 
too,  had  a  suggestion  of  the  Toreador  in  "  Carmen,"  without  its  magni- 
ficence. All  the  other  characters  were  judiciously  played.  The  whole 
exhibited  refinement  and  care  ;  and  Mrs.  Langtry  may  be  congratulated 
on  what  is  the  best  of  her  performances. 

PERCY  FITZGERALD. 


<S>ur 


The  heroism  of  Walter  Leigh — the  character  so  admirably,  intelligently, 
and  passionately  played  by  Mr.  Leonard  Boyne  in  the  new  play,  "  Sister 
Mary" — has  been  variously  debated  by  many  who  have  with  such  frank- 
ness and  good  nature  criticised  the  play.  It  was  inevitable  that  it  should 
be  so,  because  Walter  Leigh  is  outside  the  rank  of  theatrical  heroes.  His 
virtue  is  not  oppressive.  He  is  no  blustering  Pharisee.  He  has  done 
wrong,  and  he  owns  it ;  and  so  proves  himself  to  be  the  noblest  kind  of 
hero.  Your  stage  hero  is  immaculate.  He  never  has  sinned,  and  appa- 
rently he  never  would  sin.  In  youth  he  would,  doubtless,  knock  any  boy 
down  who  innocently  surveyed  a  girl's  garters  !  He  is  wonderful  in  his 
virtue,  always  ready  to  rescue  the  oppressed  at  the  right  moment,  and  his 
mouth  brimming  over  with  Pharasaical  platitude  and'goody-goody  senti- 
ment. The  exact  antithesis  to  all  this  is  Captain  Walter  Leigh.  He 
moralises,  and  owns  his  weakness.  And  so  he  has  been  considered  by 
very  well-meaning  persons  no  hero  at  all,  and  it  has  been  decided  that 
"  poetical  justice  "  has  not  been  meted  out  to  the  woman  whose  life  was 
burdened  by  his  crime. 

Let  us  trace  the  life  of  Walter  Leigh.  In  early  life,  young,  thoughtless, 
with  character  half  formed,  and  with  morality  unbraced,  he  did  a  woman 
an  irreparable  wrong.  He  was  vicious,  but  he  was  not  heartless.  The 
woman  he  had  injured  got  out  of  his  way.  She  never  saw  him  again. 
She  made  no  claim  on  him.  She  lived  her  life,  and  bore  her  sorrow  apart. 
She  passed  utterly  out  of  his  life.  If  she  loved  him,  and  idolised  still 
the  father  of  her  unhappy  child,  he,  at  least,  did  not  encourage  it.  She 
soberly  bore  the  penalty  of  her  sin  ;  he  went  from  bad  to  worse,  without 
her  hand  to  guide  him.  In  this  predicament  he  meets  Sister  Mary,  an 
absolutely  ideal  woman.  Their  sympathies  immediately  unite.  Their 
hearts  come  together.  Her  sudden  influence  is  so  great  that  he  reforms. 
He  pulls  up.  He  becomes  a  man  again,  and  not  a  sot.  He  rejoins  the 
army,  is  brave,  wins  renown  and  the  Victoria  Cross,  and  on  the  high  tide 
of  his  success  meets  the  woman  who  has  saved  him,  and  wins  her  devoted 


VXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXy 


.xxxxxxxxxxxxV 


vxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 


"  The  storm  clears  the  weather  and  our  sunshine  is  to  come." 

THE  HARBOUR  LIGHTS. 


FROM    A   PHOTOGRAPH   SPECIALLY  \AKEN    FOR   "THE  THEATRE  "  BY   BARRAUD,    26l,  OXFORD 

STREET,   W 


APRIL  1. 1886.]  OUR  OMNIBUS-BOX.  223 

love.  On  the  marriage  morning  the  sins  of  his  past  life  rise  up  before 
him  as  a  spectre.  His  forgotten  crime  comes  to  judge  him.  Sister  Mary 
discovers  that  the  woman  her  lover  had  ruined  is  her  best  and  dearest 
friend,  and  that  she  loves  him  with  an  undying  and  unutterable  love. 
Hideous  position !  This  man  and  woman,  who  literally  idolise  one  another, 
have  to  pait  for  ever  when  the  wedding  bells  are  dinning  into  their 
distracted  ears. 

Years  pass,  and  the  two  women  and  the  man  meet  amidst  the  horrors  of 
war.  The  women  are  nursing  the  sick  ;  the  man  is  doing  his  duty  as  a 
soldier.  How  is  this  life  drama  to  end  so  that  "  poetical  justice"  may  be 
awarded  ?  It  has  been  argued  that  such  justice  can  only  be  given  by  killing 
Sister  Mary,  and  marrying  Rose  Reade  to  the  man  who  injured  her,  but 
who  could  never  love  her  !  She  owns  that  she  loves  him,  but  he  could 
never  love  her.  She  has  borne  her  martyrdom  in  silence  ;  why  not  give 
her  the  martyr's  crown  in  death  ?  How  would  she  be  made  happier  by 
uniting  her  to  a  man  who  idolises  Sister  Mary,  and  whose  death  to  him 
would  be  estrangement  from  all  women  for  ever  ?  If  Walter  Leigh  is 
correctly  drawn,  he  could  not  by  any  possibility  marry  Rose  after  Sister 
Mary's  death.  He  would  support  her  and  her  child,  look  after  her,  tend 
her,  but  never  marry  her.  He  never  loved  her,  though  he  did  her  a 
monstrous  injury.  Rose  is  the  martyr  of  the  play.  She  has  sinned,  she 
has  suffered  horribly,  but  she  dies  with  the  love  for  Walter  on  her  lips,  a 
better  fate  than  any  marriage  with  a  man  who  did  not  profess  to  love  her. 
Though  for  all  that  in  the  supreme  hour  of  danger  this  man  did  not 
hesitate  to  do  his  duty  when  he  is  summoned  to  lead  a  forlorn  hope,  and 
goes  to  almost  certain  death.  "The  woman  I  cannot  love  I  must  die  to 
save  ;  the  woman  I  love  best  on  earth  I  must  leave  behind  to  die  ! "  He 
devotes  his  life  to  Rose  Reade.  He  can  do  no  more.  But  fate  steps  in, 
and  saves  his  life,  giving  the  martyr's  crown  to  poor  Rose  Reade — the 
bitterly  injured  woman  of  the  story.  Why,  then,  should  poor  Sister  Mary 
be  killed  in  order  that  "  poetical  justice"  maybe  done  ?  Her  death  would 
not  give  Rose  Reade  one  hour's  happiness,  for  Walter  Leigh  could  never 
love  her.  The  unanswered  love  dies  with  Rose ;  the  love  fulfilled  is 
presumed  to  flourish  in  the  heart  of  a  repentant  man,  and  under  the 
guidance  of  the  purest  and  sweetest  of  women.  Is  this  not  then  "  poetical 
justice,"  and  how  is  morality  outraged  by  such  a  position  ? 


Miss  Millward,  whose  photograph  appears  in  the  present  number, 
has  had  a  career  of  unbroken  prosperity  since  she  .adopted  the  stage 
as  a  professional  actress  four  and  a-half  years  ago.  Her  first  experi- 
ence as  an  amateur  was  obtained  as  leading  lady  of  the  Carlton 
Dramatic  Club,  and  she  speedily  became  very  well  known  i  i 
amateur  circles.  Her  professional  debut  took  place  at  a  matinee  ^i 
Toole's  Theatre  in  July,  1881.  At  this  trial  performance  she 
attracted  the  favourable  notice  of  Mrs.  Kendal,  and  two  days  after- 
wards she  was  engaged  for  the  St.  {James's  Theatre.  There  she 
played  Mrs.  Mildmay,  in  "  Still  Waters  RunJDeep  ;"  Mabel  Maryqn, 
in  "  Coralie ;''  and  her  first  original  part  of  Mary  Preston  in 
NEW  SERIES. — VOL.  VII.  R 


224  THE    THEATRE.  [APRIL   r,  1886. 

Clement  Scott's  one-act  drama,  "  The  Cape  Mail."  Next  we  find 
her  with  Miss  Genevieve  Ward,  playing  Alice  Verney  in  "  Forget- 
Me-Not,"  in  which  she  achieved  a  great  success.  Shortly 
afterwards,  Mr.  Henry  Irving  engaged  her  for  the  Lyceum, 
and  she  appeared  there  as  Hero  in  the  revival  of  "  Much 
Ado  About  Nothing."  Every  playgoer  in  England  and  America 
knows  how  well  she  played  the  part.  Miss  Millward  then  accom- 
panied Mr.  Irving  and  his  company  through  their  first  American 
tour,  and  then  added  the  parts  of  Jessica  in  "  The  Merchant  of 
Venice  ;"  Lady  Touchwood  in  "The  Belle's  Strategem  ;"  Anette  in 
"The  Bells;"  Anne  in  "Richard  III. ;"  and  Marie  in  "  Louis  XL," 
to  her  repertoire.  During  her  sojourn  in  America,  Miss  Millward  be- 
came a  great  favourite,  and  after  completing  her  two  years'  engage- 
ment with  Mr.  Irving  she  recrossed  the  Atlantic  to  assume  the  position 
of  leading  lady  at  the  Madison  Square  Theatre,  New  York.  There 
she  played  Pauline  in  the  first  American  version  of  "  Called  Back," 
and  created  the  part  of  Katharine  Ray  in  the  very  successful  native- 
born  play  of  ''Sealed  Instructions."  After  a  very  prosperous  tour 
through  the  States,  winning  golden  opinions  everywhere,  Miss  Mill- 
ward  returned  to  London  in  July  last,  and  was  immediately  engaged 
by  Messrs.  Gatti  for  the  Adelphi.  There  she  appeared  in  "  Arrah- 
na-Pogue "  and  "The  Colleen  Bawn;"  and  on  December  23  she 
took  her  position  as  leading  lady,  and  made  a  great  hit  as  Dora  Vane 
in  "The  Harbour  Lights." 

.  Mr.  A.  E.  T.  Watson,  whose  portrait  appears  this  month,  drifted, 
as  he  tells  us,  into  literature  while  waiting  nomination  and  reading 
leisurely  for  the  Civil  Service.  His  earliest  efforts  were  a  number  of 
stories  for  "  London  Society,"  one  of  which  was  illustrated  by  the 
late  Randolph  Caldecott,  and  to  the  same  magazine  he  contributed 
also  papers  on  "  Popular  Actors  and  Actresses  "  and  "  Dramatists," 
while  writing  verse  for  "Belgravia  "  and  "  Temple  Bar."  Mr.  Watson 
was  advised  by  the  late  George  Honey  to  gain  a  practical  acquain- 
tanceship with  the  stage,  andaccordingly  having  studied  music,  appeared 
with  an  English  opera  company  in  small  parts  first  at  Reading  and  then  at 
the  Standard  Theatre  in  London,  playing  also  in  farce.  Mr.  Watson's 
first  introduction  to  journalism  was  under  the  auspices  of  Mr.  Savile 
Clarke,  for  whom,  in  the  "  Court  Circular,"  he  wrote  notes  and  other 
articles.  In  1873  ne  was  introduced  to  the  late  Mr.  Johnstone,  of 
"  The  Standard,"  and,  commencing  with  writing  leaderettes  in  the 
evening  paper,  he  afterwards  became  dramatic  and  chief  musical 
critic — a  dual  post  he  holds  to  this  day.  Mr.  Watson  is  also  editor 
of  "  The  Illustrated  Sporting  and  Dramatic  News,"  to  which  he  con- 
tributes a  column  of  notes  signed  "  Rapier,"  and  in  which  appeared 
his  "  Sketches  in  the  Hunting  Field,"  "  Types  of  the  Turf,"  and 

"  Racecourse  and  Covert  Side.''     In  conjunction  with  the  Duke  of 
Beaufort,   Mr.   Watson  is  conductor  of  "  The  Badminton  Library," 


-^-^^^ 


riSi 


JXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXVXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXWXXXXXXXX^ 

>:'. 

(•  ' 


VXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXVX.XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXVXX'X'XX.'XXXXXXVXX^' 


1  Blame  \\hcrc  you  ir.u.st,  be  c;nu!icl  wliere  you  can, 
.And  IK-  i-ach  critic  tin-  good-natuivii  man." 

GOLUSM 


FROM   A    PHOTOGRAPH    SPECIALLY  TAKEN   FOR    "THE  THEATRE"    BY   BARRAUD,    263,  OXFORD 

STREET,   W. 


APRIL  i,  i886.]  OUR  OM\inrs-i;ox.  225 


and  he  has  also  brought  out  a  very  useful  "  Sportsman's  Year-Book." 
His  contributions  to  the  s!age  have  been  two  operettas  —  "The  Elfin 
Tree,"  played  by  the  Carl  Rosa  company  ;  "  A  Pair  of  Them," 
produced  at  the  Gaiety;  and  a  three-act  drama,  "  Pendarvon," 
written  in  conjunction  with  Mr.  Savile  Clarke,  and  brought  out  at 
the  Alexandra  Theatre,  Liverpool.  When  \vc  add  that  Mr.  Watson 
is  an  occasional  contributor  to  "  Punch,"  "  The  Saturday  Review," 
and  many  magazines,  it  will  be  evident  that  there  is  no  more  haid- 
working  journalist  than  the  subject  of  this  sketch,  certainly  no  moiv 
temperate  critic  or  genial  companion.  Gifted  with  an  even,  well- 
balanced,  and  undemonstrative  temperament,  Mr.  Watson  has  made 
many  sincere  friends,  and,  luckily,  avoided  the  offence  that  creates 
enemies. 


George  R.  Sims,  ever  popular  for  his  geniality  and  his  excellent 
work,  has  suddenly  become  the  leading  topic  of  conversation  in 
American  society.  It  is  very  well  known  that  with  all  popular 
reciters  the  author  of  "Ballads  of  Babylon"  is  well  to  the 
front.  The  last  popular  song,  the  newest  pianoforte  piece,  the  most 
recent  eccentricity  on  the  fiddle  or  the  banjo,  are  as  nothing  to  a  poem 
by  G.  R.  S.  Dagonet.  One  of  the  most  popular  of  this  author's  poems 
for  recitation  is  "Ostler  Joe."  It  might  be  recited  in  a  seminary  for 
young  ladies.  It  would  be  hallowed  wherever  virtue  most  does  con- 
gregate. It  would  not  paint  a  blush  on  the  cheeks  of  the  most  intel- 
lectual matron.  It  is  patronised  by  purists,  petted  by  parsons,  for 
has  not  Mrs.  Kendal  given  her  imprimatur  to  "Ostler  Joe  "  and  the 
poem  in  public.  An  American  lady,  as  liberal  in  her  views  as  Mrs. 
Kendal,  but  possibly  not  so  clever,  recited  "  Ostler  Joe  "  the  other  day 
in  a  salon,  whereupon  the  fluttered  doves  shook  their  virtuous  feathers 
with  indignation,  and  walked  out.  The  story  of  poor  Joe,  who  took 
back  to  his  heart  the  sad  but  repentant  woman  who  had  injured  him, 
was  too  much  for  their  nice  minds.  The  story  of  the  insult  to  Ostler 
Joe  soon  spread.  It  got  into  the  papers.  There  was  a  fierce  demand 
for  a  copy  of  the  poem.  Booksellers'  stores  were  ransacked.  The 
story  of  Ostler  Joe  was  quoted  in  a  hundred  American  papers.  Sims 
and  sanctity  became  the  watchwords  of  American  society  ;  and  now 
Dagonet  is  the  widest  read  English  poet  in  all  America.  Out  of  evil 
good  comes.  The  prudery  of  a  few  silly  American  women  has 
immortalised  the  clever  author  of  "Ostler  Joe."  Cannot  anyone  dis- 
cover a  hidden  meaning  in  "The  Women  of  Mumbles  Head,"  or 
detect  deplorable  taste  in  "The  Pride  of  the  Troop"  ?  I  wish  they 
would.  If  so,  they  might  share  the  happy  fate  of  "  Last  Night,"  a 
song  made  popular  by  the  expressive  singing  of  the  gifted  composer  of 
the  music,  and  the  sudden  gust  of  prudery  blown  into  drawing-rooms 
by  the  "  frisky  matron." 

The  statement  deliberately  made  in  the  New  York  "  Spirit  of  the  Times" 
that  "  Jack-in-the-Box  "  depended  for  its  success  in   this  country  on 

R   2 


226  THE  THEATRE  [APRIL  i,  1886. 

an  imitation  of  Henry  Irving  by  "  a  male  dancer  dressed  up  in 
woman's  clothes  "  is  gratuitously  and  absurdly  untrue.  In"Jack- 
in-the-Box,"  as  written  for  Miss  Fannie  Leslie  and  as  produced  in  this 
country,  there  is  no  suggestion  in  the  faintest  degree  of  any  imitation 
of  Mr.  Irving.  There  is  no  male  dancer  dressed  up  in  woman's 
clothes  from  one  end  of  the  play  to  the  other.  There  is  a  fair  scene, 
which  has  probably  been  used  in  America  as  a  chance  for  introducing 
idiotic  buffoonery  ;  but  it  is  a  little  hard  that  a  paper  with  the  char- 
acter of  the  "  Spirit  of  the  Times"  should  go  out  of  its  way  to  make  an 
accusation  of  mala  fides  against  "Mr.  Irving's  friends  "  which  is  abso- 
lutely unjustifiable,  and  has  no  scintilla  of  proof  to  support  it. 


"  When  in  difficulty  put  up  old  comedy  "is  a  managerial  axiom  that  is 
too  often  acted  upon  with  disastrous  results  ;  and  we  are  afraid  that 
the  managers  of  the  Haymarket  will  hardly  find  in  the  revival  of  "  She 
Stoops  to  Conquer  "  that  turn  of  the  adverse  tide  which  we  would 
be  so  glad  to  see.  They  have  a  clever  company,  but  it  is  set  to  do 
precisely  what,  with  all  the  goodwill  in  the  world,  it  is  unable  to 
accomplish.  Mrs.  Bernard-Beere,  a  capable  actress  in  drama,  brings 
her  deep  contralto  voice,  commanding  presence  and  tragic  manner  to 
the  presentment  of  bright  Kate  Hardcastle,  and,  of  course,  fails  ; 
while  Miss  Neville,  as  personated  by  Miss  Alleyn,  was  absolutely 
colourless.  Young  Mr.  Farren  again  makes  Old  Hardcastle  a  cross- 
grained  curmudgeon  instead  of  a  hearty  English  squire  ;  while  Mr. 
Barrymore,  though  he  is  the  best  of  the  party,  is  far  too  intense  as 
Young  Marlow.  Tony  Lumpkin,  again,  as  shown  by  Mr.  Brookfield, 
is  eccentric  enough  in  all  conscience,  but,  unfortunately,  he  is  not 
humorous  ;  while  Mr.  Maurice  is  very  wooden  as  Hastings.  Mrs. 
Chippendale  as  Mrs.  Hardcastle  played  vigorously,  and  with  the 
skill  born  of  long  experience  ;  while  Mr.  Somerset  may  be  commended 
as.  Diggory.  The  bright  comedy,  under  these  circumstances,  seemed 
like  champagne  that  had  been  standing  open  all  night,  and  had  lost  its 
sparkle,  and  the  entertainment  produced  depression  rather  than 
exhilaration.  The  failure  that  has  attended  the  sudden  revival  of 
Goldsmith's  famous  comedy  on  the  boards  of  the  Haymarket  Theatre 
will  not  have  been  without  result  if  it  teaches  the  stars  of  the  modern 
stage  on  what  slender  foundations  their  fame,  such  as  it  is,  rests,  and 
how  essential  it  is  that  they  should  study  before  they  attempt  to  soar. 
A  provincial  stock  company  a  few  years  ago  would  have  been 
ashamed  to  give  such  a  performance,  but  in  London  we  see  the 
worst  as  well  as  the  best  acting. 


At  the  Empire  Theatre,  one  of  the  most  elegantly  designed  and 
sumptuous  theatres  in  London,  has  been  revived  the  brilliant  spectacle, 
"  Round  the  World  in  Eighty  Days,"  which  has  been  reshaped  and 
manipulated  generally  to  fit  the  special  character  of  the  house.  But  it 
would  be  a  task  of  difficulty  to  devise  "a  show"  that  would  exactly  suit 


APRIL  i,  i886.]  OUR  OMNIBUS-BOX.  227 

the  theatre,  as  there  is  something  illogical  in  the  disposition  of$>w,  open 
promenades,  \< .,  which  seemsto  exclude  what  is  addressed  to  the  ear.  A 
theatre  with  these  adjuncts  is  self-contradictory.  M.  de  Chastclain 
appears  to  be  a  genuine  French  manager,  who  finds  himself,  like  M. 
Mayer,  "catering"  for  a  London  public.  His  ballets  are  ambitiou-. 
even  magnificent,  but  the  "dialect"  and  the  mode  of  addressing  it  to  the 
audience  seems  out  of  keeping,  and  suggests  the  sort  of  verbal  exposition 
that  accompanies  a  diorama.  The  "critical  situations,'*  with  wh 
is  contrived  each  act  should  wind  up,  are  poor  to  a  degree,  notably  the 
scene  of  the  rescue/  Miss  Kate  Vaughan  plays  the  heroine,  and  curiously 
displays  deficiencies  of  a  marked  order.  The  part  is  a  wretched  one,  but 
it  would  be  quite  possible  to  impart  a  sort  of  "  distinction  "  to  it.  Her 
true  expression,  however,  is  not  in  "  the  vocal  chords,"  but  in  that  ex- 
quisite grace  of  movement  which,  in  Consul  Planeus'  day,  used  to  ravish 
all.  Marius  has  nothing  to  do,  but  contrives  to  impart  a  factitious  bustle 
as  though  he  were  doing  something — an  art  in  itself.  The  scenery  is 
poetical  and  original.  The  night  of  our  visit  a  luckless  snake  charmer 
who  was  winding  the  unpleasant  creatures  about  her  person,  received  an 
ugly  bite,  and  the  audience  had  the  rare  chance  of  seeing  how  a 
serpent  "strikes"  its  victim.  It  was  a  very  painful  and  disagreeable 
incident. 


A  most  interesting  little  collection  of  Holman  Hunt's  works,  exhi- 
bited since  the  latter  part  of  March  at  the  Fine  Art  Society's  Rooms, 
New  Bond  Street,  essentially  requires — in  order  to  form  a  proper 
estimation  of  its  many  especial  merits — that  keen  and  ready  appre- 
ciation of  the  beautiful  on  the  spectator's  part  which  is,  alas  !  but 
too  often  crushed,  if  not  altogether  annhilated,  by  a  prevailing  spirit 
of  common-place  realism  which  frequently  overclouds  the  poetic 
fancies  of  many  artists  whose  names  are  as  household  words  amongst 
us.  "  Chacun  a  son  gout."  To  the  eyes  and  senses  of  a.  large 
majority  of  the  sight-seeing  public  immense  satisfaction  is  undoubt- 
edly afforded  by  gazing  upon  life-size  portraits  of  baby-children, 
beaming  with  the  smiles,  or  overwhelmed  with  the  momentarily- 
hopeless  sorrows  of  infantile  years.  Nevertheless,  there  exist,  on 
the  other  hand,  others  who  ask  that  the  painter's  brush,  whilst 
revealing  countless  beauties  of  light,  form,  and  colour,  may  also  use 
well  and  nobly  its  frequently  unrecognised,  but  no  less  indisputed, 
power  of  bringing  the  spectator's  mind  into  closest  sympathy  with 
all  that  is  most  purely  beautiful  in  life  and  nature.  Such,  happily 
to  relate,  appears  the  principal  "  mission  "  of  Mr.  Holman  Hunt's 
work,  displayed,  however,  under  so  many  differing  forms  and  aspects 
that  it  becomes  truly  difficult  to  particularise  the  merits  of  one  study 
without  naming  others  demanding  an  equal  share  of  our  heartiest 
praise  and  admiration. 

Needless  to  say  how  that  well-known  picture,  "  The  Light  of  the 
World,"  claims  with  same  attraction  as  in  years  gone  by  our  especial 


228  THE    THEATRE.  APRIL  i,  1886. 

attention,  as  we  look  and  look  again  at  this  most  exquisite  embodi- 
ment of  the  Saviour — knocking  at  the  door  of  the  human  soul — 
waiting  with  divine  patience  for  the  complete  surrender  of  the 
wanderer's  heart  when  acknowledging  Him  as  its  sole  Lord  and 
rightful  owner.  The  blue-grey  background,  thrown  into  dim  shadow 
by  the  soft  gleam  of  the  lamp's  light,  which  clothes  with  radiance  of 
purest  white  the  full-length  figure  of  Christ  clad  in  richly-jewelled 
robe,  no  less  strikingly  harmonises  with  the  religious  thoughts 
conveyed  to  our  minds  by  this  exquisitely  ideal  work  than  does  the 
reddish  tone  which  wholly  envelops  the  equally  well-known  study, 
entitled  "  The  Shadow  of  Death."  Very  beautiful,  though  widely 
different  in  expression  and  cast  of  feature,  is  the  Christ's  face,  illumi- 
nated by  the  sun's  declining  rays,  which  severally  irradiates  with  almost 
bewildering  brilliancy  the  flooring  of  the  humble  carpenter's  shop,  strewn 
with  wood-shavings  and  instruments  of  simple  toil,  the  rich  brocades  and 
precious  offerings  of  the  Magi,  o'er  which  the  Virgin  Mother  is  at- 
tentively bending  ;  whilst  in  the  far  distance  it  encircles  with  fainter 
degree  of  glory  the  sloping  hills  and  plains  of  the  lowly  village  of 
Nazareth. 

Turning  for  an  instant  from  religious  to  secular  realms  of  thought, 
let  us  note  the  same  wealth  of  colour  as  displayed  in  the  study  of 
"  Claudio  and  Isabella,"  where  in  the  damp,  lonely  prison  the 
reproachful  sister  awakes  her  brother's  cowardly  spirit  to  a  realisation 
of  the  beauty  of  death  as  compared  to  a  life  entangled  by  the  hateful 
fetters  of  earthly  sin  and  shame.  What  a  fascinating  example  of 
•womanly  virtue  is  here  given  us  in  the  person  of  Isabella,  as,  clad  in 
queen-like  garments  of  greyish  white,  with  calm,  gentle  eyes  bearing 
a  world  of  meaning  in  their  steadfast  gaze,  she  confronts  the  conscious- 
stricken  youth,  the  warm  colouring  of  whose  dress  is  not  less  beauti- 
fully depicted  than  is  the  pale,  pinkish  tinge  of  the  apple  blossoms 
peeping  between  the  iron  bars  of  the  narrow  prison  window.  Still 
more  forcibly,  in  the  work  entitled  "  Strayed  Sheep,"  do  we  note  the 
especial  love  of  sunshine  which  so  largely  characterises  many  o-f 
Holman  Hunt's  studies,  the  dazzling  brightness  of  earth,  sky,  and 
sea  almost  inclining  us  to  quarrel  at  such  an  over-abundance  of 
colour,  until  we  gradually  note  the  rare  genius  which  blends  such 
apparently  conflicting  tones  into  sure  and  perfect  harmony  one  with 
another.  Want  of  space  alone  prevents  us  dwelling  upon  other 
works  deserving  equal  attention  with  those  we  have  feebly  attempted 
to  describe.  All  lovers  of  art  should  hasten  to  visit  this  collection, 
which,  we  venture  to  predict,  will  prove  one  of  the  most  attractive 
exhibitions  of  the  present  London  season. 


The  elocution  class  of  the  Birkbeck  Literary  and  Scientific  Institution 
gave  their  annual  performance  at  St.  George's  Hall  on  February  25- 
Why  amateurs  should  revive  "The  Shaughraun  "  is  not  quite  compre- 
hensible, and  of  what  gain  its  performance  can  be  to  an  elocution  class 


APRIL  i,  1886.]  OUR  OMNIBUS-BOX.  229 

we  fail  to  see.  The  acting,  however,  \v a>  v. TV  good  in  some  cases,  but 
not  in  all,  unfortunately.  Mr.  J.  H.  George  was  very  weak  as  Captain 
Molyneux,  and  Mr.  Ernest  Fisher  very  bad  as  Father  Dolan,  being  stagey 
and  indistinct  in  his  enunciation.  Mr.  F.dwin  Fcrgusson  was  earnest  as 
Robert  Ffolliot,  but  it  was  somewhat  novel  to  see  a  recently-escaped 
convict  with  long  curly  hair.  Mr.  W.  E.  George  was  fair  as  Harvey  Duff. 
Mr.  P.  Gromer  showed  himself  to  be  an  excellent  actor  in  a  part  which 
gives  little  scope  for  histrionic  display,  that  of  Corry  Kinchela.  Mr. 
Alexander  Watson's  conception  of  the  Shaughraun  was  the  correct  one, 
and  he  acted  very  well,  but,  for  this  particular  part,  he  lacked  a  natural 
gift,  which  is  almost  impossible  to  assume,  irrepressible  spirits  ;  he  took 
the  part  at  a  canter,  when  he  ought  to  have  been  tearing  at  a  full  gallop. 
Miss  Annie  Roby  was  awkward  and  amateurish  as  Arte  O'Neale.  Miss 
Emily  Grove  (Mrs.  Grove  Palmer)  was  a  bright  and  spirited  Claire 
Ffolliot,  and  Mrs.  Robert  Curtis  did  fairly  well  as  Mrs.  O'Kelly,  only  there 
was  nothing  Irish  about  her  old  woman.  Miss  Edith  Hamilton  was  as 
fascinating  a  little  rogue  as  one  could  wish  to  see  for  Moya.  This  bright 
young  actress  was  of  great  help  to  the  performance. 


At  the  Royal  Park  Hall  (Park  Street,  Camden  Town),  on  March  20, 
Mr.  Edward  Coventry  gave  a  musical  and  dramatic  entertainment. 
He  was  well  supported,  and  appeared  himself  in  the  three-fold 
character  of  comic  singer,  reciter,  and  actor.  Mr.  Avalon  Collard's 
glee  singers  opened  the  concert,  and  sang  several  part  songs,  but  I 
cannot  say  much  for  their  performance.  Miss  Edith  Maas,  who  sang 
two  songs,  has  a  very  pleasant  contralto  voice,  but  a  little  more 
spirit  would  improve  her  style.  Mr.  Joseph  Lynde  was  heard  to 
great  advantage  in  two  of  Tosti's  songs,  which  were  well  suited  to  hi 
fine  baritone  voice ;  later  on,  "  Father  O'Flynn,"  given  with  much 
point,  gained  him  an  encore.  Mr.  Frank  Syme,  a  clever  young 
mimic,  gave  Corney  Grain's"  My  First  Cigar"  in  rather  too  loudand 
boisterous  a  manner,  but  he  pleased  the  audience  and  was  encored  ;  he 
then  sang  "  On  the  Steamer,"  a  parody  of  "  In  the  Gloaming,"  and 
this  was  very  good.  In  the  second  part  Mr.  Frank  Syme  gave 
Grossmith's  musical  sketch,  "  A  Juvenile  Party,"  and  except  in  the 
uncle's  sneezing  song  did  very  well  indeed.  Mr.  Syme  is  decidedly 
clever,  but  wants  toning  down  a  little  ;  however,  as  he  is  very  young, 
this  will  no  doubt  come  of  itself.  Mr.  Edward  Coventry  is  also  a  very 
young  man  ;  he  is  very  promising.  First  he  sang  "  'Twas  only  a 
year  ago,"  a  parody  on  "  It  came  with  the  merry  May,  love,"  taken 
from  Mr.  Arthur  Roberts'  repertory.  This  having  to  be  sung  without 
any  jesture,  the  comic  rendering  entirely  depends  on  the  play  of 
features  ;  in  this,  Mr.  Edward  Coventry  was  very  successful,  and  he 
was  encored  twice.  In  the  recital  of  G.  R.  Sims's  "  Christmas 
Day  in  a  Workhouse,"  in  character,  Mr.  Coventry  showed 
throughout  a  decided  talent  for  "  making  up."  At  first  he  was  rather 
nervous,  and  hurried  over  his  lines,  but  this  soon  passed  off.  He 
showed  both  earnestness  and  feeling,  and  his  conception  of  the  piece 


23o  THE  THE  A  TRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886. 

was  good.  One  bit  of  friendly  advice  I  must  give  to  him  ;  that  is,  not 
to  speak  so  low  ;  a  weak  voice  may  be  appropriate  to  the  character  of 
an  old  man,  but  I  doubt  if  Mr.  Coventry  could  be  heard  at  first  by 
those  at  the  farthest  end  of  the  hall.  As  he  proceeded,  he  allowed  his 
voice  to  gain  more  volume,  and  was  far  more  effective  in  consequence. 
The  entertainment  closed  with  the  farce,  "  Brown  the  Martyr,"  Mr. 
Edward  Coventry  as  the  artist,  and  Miss  Hammerton  as  Mrs.  Brown, 
being  both  good  and  natural.  Of  Mr.  Chapman's  Brown  the  least 
said  the  better.  Miss  Ada  Johns  proved  herself  a  good  accompanist 
to  Mr.  Coventry's  song  ;  Mr.  George  Jenkins  held  the  piano  the 
rest  of  the  time.  Mr.  Coventry  has  still  something  to  learn,  but 
he  is  on  the  right  road,  aud  study  and  experience  will  undoubtedly 
bring  him  success. 


After  a  wonderfully  successful  concert  tour  of  seven  weeks  in  the 
English  provinces,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  Madame  Trebelli  is  now  sing- 
ing opera  in  Switzerland  and  Germany.  She  is  engaged  principally 
for  the  parts  of  Azucena,  Amneris,  and  Carmen,  and  is  to  appear  in 
various  towns,  returning  to  London  at  the  end  of  April.  After  the 
London  season  Madame  Trebelli  goes  to  America  for  an  extensive 
tour  in  the  United  States.  The  famous  contralto  was  greeted  en- 
thusiastically by  our  American  cousins  on  the  occasion  of  her  first 
visit,  and  they  are  preparing  to  welcome  her  again  as  heartily  as 
before. 


The  Irving  Dramatic  Club's  last  performance  on  February  i8th  at  St. 
George's  Hall  was  given  on  behalf  of  St.  Michael's  Mission,  H.  Byron's 
"  Married  inJHaste  "  being  the  play  selected.  As  a  whole,  the  performance 
dragged,  and  was  not  up  to  the  Club's  usually  high  standard  ;  two  of  the 
performers,  Mr.  T.  R.  Whinney  and  Mr.  F.  W.  Rawson  showing  painful 
exaggeration.  Even  Mr.  H.  D.  Shepard  did  not  quite  escape  the  influence 
of  his  surroundings,  for,  although  he  made  a  very  good  Gibson  Green,  he 
was  at  times  wanting  in  spirit,  and  rather  too  deliberate.  To  Mr.  B. 
Webster  and  Miss  L.  Webster  I  must  give  hearty  congratulations  on  the 
rapid  strides  they  are  making  in  the  art  of  acting.  As  the  hero  and 
heroine  they  were  both  excellent  throughout,  but  for  a  slight  uncertainty 
in  his  lines  on  the  part  of  the  gentleman.  In  the  third  act,  which  requires 
the  best  acting,  they  showed  much  feeling  and  dramatic  power. 


APRIL  i,  1886.] 


OUR  OMNIBUS-BOX. 


231 


New   plays   produced,    and    important    revivals,  in    London,    the 
provinces,  and  Paris,  from  February  22  to  March  25,  1886  :— 

(Revivals  are  marked  thus  *.) 

LONDON : 

March         3     "  Round  the  World,"  a  new  version,  by  Alfred  Murray,  of  Jules 

Verne  and  d'Ennery's  "  Round  the   World  in  Eighty  Days." 

Empire  Theatre. 
„  8      "  The  Foreman  of  the  Works,"  an  original  domestic  drama,  in 

four  acts,  by  Geo.  Manville  Fenn.     Standard  Theatre, 
ii      "Doo,  Brown  and  Co.,"  an  original  farce,  in  three  acts,   by  C 

M.  Rae.    Vaudeville  Theatre. 
,,         13*     "  She  Stoops  to  Conquer,"    Goldsmith's  comedy.      Haymarket 

Theatre. 
,,         15      "  Love  and  Stratagem,"  a  new  and  original  play,  in  three  acts, 

by  Oswald  Brand  and   E.  W.     Linging.       Gaiety    Theatre. 

(Matine'e — single  performance.) 
,,         17      "Atlantis;  or,  The  Lost  Land,"  a  new  and  original  comic  opera, 

in  three  acts,  by  Maurice  Dalton  and  Ernest  Genet  ;  music  by 

T.  M.   Haddow.     Gaiety  Theatre.     (Matinee— single  perfor- 
mance.) 
,,        22      "  Our  Silver  Wedding,"  sensational  drama,  in  five  acts,  by 

James  Willing.     Standard  Theatre. 
,,        23      "  Masse-en-Yell-Oh,"  a  riotous  socialistic  tavestie,  by  Harry 

Paulton  and  "MostynTedde;  "  music  by  Jakobowski.  Comedy 

Theatre. 
,,         25      "  Jim,  the  Penman,"  drama,  by  Sir  Charles  L.  Young1,  Bart. 

Haymarket  Theatre.     (Matinee — single  performance.) 
,,          ,,      "Oliver  Grumble,"  burlesque,  in  two  acts,  by  George  Dance. 

Novelty  Theatre.     (First    produced    at  the   Prince  of  Wales 

Theatre,  Liverpool,  on  March  15,  1886.) 


PROVINCES  : 

February  22      "  Larks,"  an  original  farcical  comedy,  by  J.  Wilton  Jones. 

Pavilion  Theatre,  Southport. 
,,          ,,      "  The  Missing  Link,"  drama,   in  four  acts,  by  Hal   Collier. 

Theatre  Royal,  Workington. 
,,          26     "  Love  and  the  Law,"  new  and  original  operetta,  words  by 

Henry  Millward ;   music  by  C.  Flavell  Hayward.     Exchange 

Hall,  Wolverhampton. 
March         3      "AMerrie  Familie,"  original  comedy-drama,  in  three  acts,  by 

W.  F.  Field.    Theatre  of  Varieties,  Brentford. 
„         8      "  Sister  Mary,"  a  new  play,  in  four  acts,  by  Wilson  Barrett  and 

Clement  Scott.     Theatre  Royal,  Brighton. 
,,          ,,      "  Touch  and  Go,"  burlesque,  by  Walter  Andrews.     Prince  of 

Wales  Theatre,  Liverpool. 
,,         1 1      "  Nadel,"a  new  and  original  blank-verse  drama,  by  W.  F.  Lyon. 

Theatre  Royal,  Coventry. 

,,         15      "Oliver  Grumble,"  burlesque,  in  two  acts,  by  George  Dance. 
„          ,,      Prince  of  Wales  Theatre,  Liverpool.  (Produced  at  the  Novelty 

Theatie  on  March  25.) 


232  THE    THEATRE.  [APRIL  i,  1886 


PARIS  : 

.February  23       "  Le  Fiacre  117,"  comedy-vaudeville,  in  three  acts,  by  Emile 

de  Najac  and  Albert  Millaud.     Variete's. 
,,        24      "  Roger  le  Me*canicien,"  drama,  in  five  acts  and  six  tableaux, 

by  Rene"  de  Cuers  and  Adolphe  Lightone.     Bouffes-du-Nord. 
,,         25*     "Le  Roman  d'un  Jeune  Homme  Pauvre,"  drama,  in  five  acts 

by  Octave  Feuillet.     Gymnase. 
,,          ,,      "  Lohengrin  a  1'Alcazar,"  parody,  in  three  tableaux,    by  Le 

Bourg  and  Boucherat ;  music  by  Patusset.     Alcazar. 
,,         26      "  Le  Chant  de  la  Cloche,"  a  dramatic  legend,  music  and  words 

by  Vincent  d'Indy.     Concert  Lamoureux. 
,,          ,,      "  1802,"  dialogue  in  prose,  for  Victor  Hugo's  anniversary,  by 

Ernest  Renan.     Comedie  Fran^aise. 
,,          ,,      "  1802,  a  propos,"  in  verse,  for  Victor  Hugo's  anniversary,  by 

Mdme.  Simone  Arnaud.     Ode'on. 
„          27      "  Hamlet,"  in  five   acts  and  eleven  tableaux,  adaptation  in 

verse,  by  Charles  Samson  and  Lucien  Cressonnois.     Porte  St. 

Martin. 
March         i       "  David  Teniers,"  comedy,  in  one  act,  in  verse,  by  Edouard 

Noel  and  Lucien  Pate. 
,,          ,,*     "Le  Beau   Le'andre,"  in  one  act,  in  verse,  by  Theodore  de 

Banville  and  Siraudin.     Ode'on. 
,,          3*     "  Les  Contes  d'Hoffmann,"  comic  opera,  by  Offenbach.    Ope"ra 

Comique. 
.,,          „      "  Bigame,"  comedy- vaudeville,  in  three  acts,  by  Paul  Bilhaud 

and  Albert  Barre.     Palais  Royal. 
,,          4       "  Martyre,"    drama,  in  five  acts,  by  Adolphe  d'Ennery  and 

Edmond  Tarbe.     Ambigu. 

„          6      The  Hippodrome  re-opened  for  the  summer  season. 
„         n*     "  Fromont  Jeune  et   Risler  Aine,    drama,    in    five  acts,    by 

Alphonse  Daudet  and  Adolphe  Belot.     Gymnase. 
,,         12      "Coup    Double,"    comedy,    in    one    act,  by    Edouard  Noel. 

Dejazet. 
,,          ,,      "  Les  Maris  inquiets,"  comedy-bouffe,  in  three  acts,  by  Albin 

Valabr&gue.     Dejazet. 
.,,        13*     "L'Ecole  des  Femmes,"   comedy,  in  verse,  in  five  acts,  by 

Moliere.     Comedie  Fran^aise. 
,,         17       "Ane  a  Pierrot,"  pantomime.     Eden. 
,,         20       "Josephine  Vendue  par  ses  Soeurs,"  an  opera-bouife,  in  three 

acts,  by  MM.  Paul  Ferrier  and  Fabrice  Carre" ;  music  by  M. 

Victor  Roger.     Bouffes-Parisiens. 


THE  THEATRE. 


How  Balzac's  "Maratre"  came  to  be 

Written. 

BY  PHILIP  KENT. 
PART  I. 

ONE  fine   afternoon,  in  the  summer  of  1847,  a  visitor  rang 
the  door-bell  of  one  of  the  two  pavilions  which  the  cele- 
brated Doctor  Segalas  had  built  at  Bougival,  on  the  banks  of  the 
Seine.     The  door  was  opened  by  a  maid-servant. 

"  Is  the  manager  of  the  Theatre-Historique  at  home  ? " 
inquired  the  visitor. 

"  I  will  go  and  tell  master  that  you  wish  to  see  him,  if  you  will 
be  good  enough  to  wait  here  under  the  arbour" — for  such  was  the 
somewhat  pretentious  title  that  the  owner  of  the  dwelling  had 
bestowed  upon  a  few  straggling  sprays  of  ivy  which  interlaced 
each  other  over  the  entrance  porch. 

I — the  owner  in  question — was  lolling  on  the  green  slope  of  the 
towing-path,  sheltered  by  the  shadow  of  the  house  from  the  rays 
of  the  broiling  sun,  when  the  servant  announced  a  visitor. 

"  A  visitor  !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  What  an  odd  idea,  to  come  at  a 
time  of  day  when  it  is  so  overpoweringly  hot !  Did  the  gentleman 
give  you  his  name  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  think  to  ask  it,  sir,"  replied  the  servant. 
"  What  sort  of  a  man  is  he  ?  " 

"Why,  goodness  me,  I  hardly  looked  at  him!  He's  got  a 
straw  hat  on,  and  his  shoes  are  covered  with  dust ;  and  he's  got  a 
stick  in  his  hand  a-flicking  away  at  the  ivy  leaves." 

"  Confound  it  all !  there  are  none  too  many  as  it  is,"  said  I, 
already  somewhat  out  of  temper  at  being  disturbed. 

However,  I  quitted  the  friendly  shade,  and  made  my  way  to  the 

NEW   SERIES. — VOL.    VII.  S 


234  THE  THEATRE.  [MAY 


1886. 


front-door.  My  visitor  had  his  back  turned  to  me,  and  was 
looking  through  the  garden  gate.  Standing  in  this  position,  he 
looked  for  all  the  world  like  a  country  tradesman.  But,  as  I 
approached,  he  faced  round,  and  lo  !  I  at  once  recognised  M.  de 
Balzac — the  great  Balzac  himself  !  I  had  often  seen,  but  never 
spoken  to  him. 

I  offered  a  hundred  confused  apologies  for  having  kept  him 
waiting,  and  begged  him  to  do  me  the  honour  of  entering  my 
little  drawing-room. 

"  No  ;  we  should  stifle  there,"  replied  he,  good-humouredly. 
"  Might  I  take  the  liberty  of  asking  whether  you  were  not  in  some 
more  airy  spot  when  I  rang  your  bell?" 

"  In  truth,  Monsieur  de  Balzac,  I  don't  hesitate  to  confess  that 
I  was  e'en  just  squatting  on  the  bank  of  the  towing-path,  in  the 
shade,  close  to  the  river,  where  the  grass  is  so  beautifully  green 
that  it  makes  my  poor  lawn  look  even  browner  than  it  really  is." 

"  Well,  then,  that's  the  place  where,  subject  to  your  good 
pleasure,  I  propose  to  have  a  bit  of  a  chat  with  you.  So  lead  the 
way,"  said  Balzac,  smiling. 

When  he  had  settled  himself  in  a  comfortable  position  on  the 
sloping  turf,  he  began  to  explain  to  me  that  he  had  for  a  long 
time  past  been  thinking  of  writing  for  our  theatre  a  grand  his- 
torical drama,  of  which,  as  I  should  very  soon  see,  he  had  all  the 
material  elements  ;  but  that  he  had  been  hitherto  deterred  from 
setting  to  work  by  the  fear  of  meeting  with  some  opposition  from 
Alexandre  Dumas ;  that  quite  recently,  however,  he  had  learnt 
that  behind  the  great  author  there  stood  a  responsible  manager  ; 
that  I  was  that  responsible  manager ;  and  that,  finding  we  were 
neighbours — for  at  this  time  Balzac  had  a  country  house  at 
Marly-le-Roi — he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  take  Bougival  on  his 
way,  some  day  as  he  was  passing,  and  frankly  ask  me  to  tell  him 
"how  the  land  lay." 

"  You  need  not  be  in  the  least  afraid,"  I  replied.  "  Our  literary 
pastor  and  master  will  be  enthusiastically  delighted  at  the  idea  of 
seeing  so  considerable  an  author  as  M.  de  Balzac  contributing  his 
share  to  the  glory  and  success  of  our  theatre." 

By  way  of  fortifying  this  assertion,  I  instanced  the  case  of 
Adolphus  Dumas,  to  whose  "  Ecole  des  Families"  the  other  Dumas 
had  accorded  a  brotherly  reception ;  the  case  of  Joseph  Autran, 
the  literary  father  of  "  La  Fille  d'Eschylle,"  and  also  the  case  of 


MAY  i.iSSG.]  HALZAC'S   "MARATK/-:."  235 

Paul  Meuiice,  who  had  supplied  us  with  a  fine  poetical  version  of 
"  Hamlet." 

"  Well  and  good,  then  !  "  said  Balzac.  "  You  have  completely 
reassured  me ;  and  I  can  now  speak  to  you  freely  about  my  his- 
torical drama.  It  is  to  be  called  "  Pierre  et  Catherine."  Peter  the 
First  and  Catharine  of  Russia !  That  strikes  me  as  being  an 
excellent  subject  for  a  piece." 

"  In.  your  hands,  Monsieur  de  Balzac,  the  subject  cannot  but  be 
excellent.  Are  you  well  on  with  it  ?  Have  you  worked  out  a 
detailed  plan  of  it  ?  " 

"  It's  all  of  it  here,"  said  Balzac,  striking  his  forehead.  "  There's 
nothing  to  do  but  to  put  it  on  paper.  Why,  look  you,  the  first 
scene  might  be  rehearsed  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

"  I  should  dearly  like  to  know  what  this  first  scene  may  be," 
said  I,  in  my  most  seductive  manner. 

"  Nothing  more  easy !  We  are  in  a  Russian  tavern.  The 
decorations  lie  before  you.  Good  !  The  tavern  is  all  astir  with 
life  and  bustle,  because  the  road  is  thronged  with  passing  troops. 
Folks  are  coming  in  and  folks  are  going  out — drinking,  chattering  ; 
but  everyone  is  in  a  hurry.  Among  the  servants  of  the  inn  there 
is  a  young  woman  full  of  life  and  activity.  Now,  mark  this  woman 
well !  She  is  well-built,  and,  though  by  no  means  a  beauty,  is 
exceptionally  piquantc ;  the  men  'chaff'  her  as  she  trots  to  and 
fro,  and  she  has  a  smile  for  every  one.  Only,  nobody  must  go 
too  far,  either  in  word  or  deed.  To  an  over-free  speech,  or  an 
over-bold  caress,  she  replies  with  a  slap  in  the  face  as  bad  as  a 
blow  of  the  fist. 

"  Enter  a  soldier,  more  important-looking  than  the  others, 
charged  with  some  particular  and  pressing  piece  of  business.  Of 
course  he  takes  his  time  about  it.  So  he  will  leisurely  drink  his 
fill,  and  have  a  long  chat  with  the  waitress,  if  she  takes  his  fancy. 
And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  this  servant  does  take  his  fancy  at  first 
sight.  As  for  her,  she  looks  upon  the  soldier  as  a  smart  fellow  in 
his  way. 

"  '  My  lass,'  quoth  he,  putting  his  arm  round  her  waist,  'you 
suit  me  to  a  T ;  sit  yourself  down  there,  near  me,  at  this  table, 
and  let's  have  a  drink  together.'  And  down  sits  the  soldier  with 
the  servant  by  his  side. 

"  Perceiving,  however,  that  the  old  innkeeper  disapproves  of 
this  proceeding,  the  soldier  jumps  up  in  a  fury,  and,  bringing  his 

S   2 


236  THE    THEATRE.  [MAY  i,  1886. 

hand  down  upon  the  rude  deal  table  with  a  tremendous  bang, 
shouts  out :  '  If  I'm  not  allowed  to  have  my  own  way,  I'll  set  fire 
to  the  whole  barrack.'  And  no  doubt  he  would  have  been  as  good 
as  his  word.  Nevertheless,  he  was  an  honest  soldier,  but  terrible 
to  his  inferiors. 

"  Thereupon  the  old  landlord  makes  a  sign  to  the  girl  that  she 
is  to  do  as  the  soldier  wishes.  What  else  could  you  expect  ? 
When  the  troops  are  let  loose  to  scour  the  country,  the  poor 
peasant  has  a  hard  time  of  it. 

"  Meanwhile  the  soldier  had  resumed  his  seat.  One  of  his  arms 
affectionately  encircled  the  servant's  neck,  except  when  from  time 
to  time  he  removed  it  in  order  to  raise  his  glass  to  his  lips,  his 
other  hand  being  occupied  in  holding  the  pipe  which  he  was 
smoking.  When  he  had  drunk  'potations  pottle  deep,'  he  turned 
to  the  girl,  with  passion  in  his  eyes,  and  said — • 

"  '  Never  you  fear,  I'll  find  you  a  far  better  "  diggings  "  than  this/ 

"  While  they  are  talking  together,  without  a  thought  of  what  is 
going  on  around  them,  the  main  door  opens,  and  in  comes  an 
officer.  At  sight  of  him  everyone  respectfully  rises  to  his  feet, 
The  other  soldiers  give  the  military  salute  and  stand  stock-stilL 
Only  the  servant  and  her  admirer  retain  their  seats.  They  have 
neither  of  them  seen  or  heard  the  officer.  Observing  this,  the 
man  in  authority  takes  offence ;  the  girl  attracts  his  attention  ;  he 
keeps  his  eyes  fixed  upon  her  as  he  marches  towards  the  table. 
When  he  reaches  the  soldier's  side,  the  officer  raises  his  arm,  and 
brings  it  down  upon  the  poor  fellow's  shoulder  with  a  terrific  force, 
which  nearly  bends  him  double. 

"  '  Get  up,  you  rascal,'  cries  the  officer.  '  Go  and  write  down 
your  name,  the  name  of  your  regiment,  and  your  number  at  the 
bar  of  the  inn ;  and  you  may  look  to  hear  from  me  before  long.' 

"  At  the  first  moment — that  is  to  say,  on  receiving  the  blow,, 
without  knowing  who  dealt  it — the  private  had  felt  disposed  to 
retaliate  ;  but  when  he  recognised  the  aggressor  as  his  superior 
officer,  this  natural  instinct  yielded  to  the  habit  of  discipline.  So, 
rising  automatically,  he  went  and  did  as  he  was  bid.  Meantime 
the  officer  scans  the  servant  with  redoubled  attention;  and  the 
scrutiny  seems  to  calm  and  mollify  him.  The  soldier,  having 
written  down  his  name,  &c.,  returns  and  humbly  tenders  the 
paper  to  the  officer.  '  Good  ! '  exclaims  the  latter,  handing  it  back 
to  him.  '  Now  be  cff  with  you ! ' 


MAY  i,i8S6.]  BALZAC'S    "MARATRE."  237 

"  The  soldier  again  salutes,  turns  upon  his  heels  in  regulation 
form,  and  makes  off,  without  looking  at  anyone — not  even  at  the 
attractive  servant. 

"  At  her  the  officer  smiles,  and  she  smiles  back  at  the  officer. 
*  A  fine  man  ! '  thinks  she  to  herself. 

"  The  '  fine  man '  takes  the  seat  which  the  soldier  had  vacated, 
orders  the  best  cheer  that  the  inn  can  furnish,  and  invites  the 
servant  to  share  it  with  him.  She  accepts,  without  a  moment's 
hesitation. 

"  Then  they  begin  to  talk  to  each  other,  and  their  conversation 
soon  becomes  extremely  confidential. 

"  A  stranger  suddenly  presents  himself  at  the  door  of  the  inn  ; 
he  is  wrapped  in  a  long  cloak. 

"  On  catching  sight  of  this  personage,  men  and  women  all  sink 
to  their  knees ;  some  even  stoop  until  their  foreheads  touch  the 
floor. 

"  The  officer,  however,  is  as  blind  as  his  predecessor,  the 
private,  was  to  what  is  going  on  behind  his  back.  The  seductive 
inn  servant  has  already  half-bewitched  him.  In  a  fit  of  enthu- 
siasm the  officer  exclaims — '  You  are  perfectly  divine.  I  shall 
take  you  away  with  me.  You  shall  have  a  grand  set  of  rooms,  in 
which  you'll  never  feel  the  cold.' 

"  But  the  man  in  the  cloak  has  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  pair  who 
have  taken  no  notice  of  his  entrance.  He  feels  drawn  towards 
the  frolicsome  girl  by  an  irresistible  attraction  and  sympathy.  He 
approaches  the  table,  and  flinging  his  cloak  back  from  his  shoulders, 
stands  with  his  arms  folded  upon  his  chest.  The  officer  sees  him, 
turns  pale,  springs  to  his  feet,  and  bowing  almost  to  the  very 
ground,  stammers  out — *  Oh  !  Sire,  forgive  me  ! ' 
" '  Stand  up.' 

"  Just  as  the  soldier  had  done  to  him,  so  now  does  the  officer,  in 
his  turn,  raise  himself  bolt  upright  in  a  moment,  and  awaits  the 
good  pleasure  of  his  master.  The  master,  meanwhile,  was  taking 
a  good  look  at  the  girl,  and  the  girl,  on  her  part,  was  admiringly, 
but  fearlessly,  surveying  the  all-powerful  Tsar. 

"  '  You  can  withdraw,'  said  the  latter  to  the  officer.  '  I  shall  keep 
this  woman  for  myself,  and  give  her  a  palace.' 

"  Such  was  the  first  meeting  of  Peter  the  First  and  her  who  was 
destined  to  become  Catherine  of  Russia." 

"  Well,  and  what  think  you  of  my  prologue  ?"  asked  Balzac. 


238  THE   THEATRE.  [MAY  i,  1886. 

"  Most  curious,  most  original ;  but  the  rest  ?  " 

"You  shall  have  it  shortly.  The  situation  is  interesting;  you'll 
see  !  As  a  frame-work  for  the  historical  events,  I  have  in  my  head 
an  entirely  new  misc-en-sccne.  For  all  our  theatres,  and  especially 
for  yours,  Russia  is  a  mine  of  wealth  that  only  needs  working. 
And  it  will  be  worked.  At  present,  from  the  standing-point  of  the 
decorative  and  plastic  arts,  we  have  got  no  further,  in  all  that  con- 
cerns this  rich  and  grandiose  country,  than  the  coloured  prints 
representing  the  passage  of  the  Beresina,  and  the  death  of 
Poniatowski,  with  his  big  devil  of  a  horse,  which  looks  as  if 
it  were  minded  to  swallow  the  ice-blocks." 

Then  warming  with  his  own  eloquence,  he  exclaimed — "And 
the  inhabitants  ?  Hearts  of  gold  ;  infinitely  superior  to  us  French- 
men !  As  for  the  Russian  peasants,  it  is  only  among  them  that 
genuine  tenors  are  to  be  found  nowadays.  Compared  with  them 
our  countryfolk  are  no  better  than  so  many  hoarse  Prudhommes. 
Aud  then  the  Russian  upper  classes !  They  are  simply  adorable. 
Furthermore,  it  is  from  among  them  that  I  have  picked  out  and 
won  my  future  wife  ! " 

Thereupon  Balzac  went  away,  leaving  me  enchanted  with  him, 
and  building  mountains  of  hope  on  the  forthcoming  inevitable 
success  of  "  Pierre  et  Catherine." 


PART  II. 

When  I  next  saw  him,  all  was  changed.  He  had  for  the 
present  abandoned  the  Russian  play.  He  still  promised  to  let  us 
have  it  later  on  ;  but  in  the  meantime  "  cool  reflection  "  had 
shown  him  that  it  was  a  colossal  undertaking,  not  a  single  detail 
of  which  ought  to  be  "  scamped."  Now  he  needed  information 
on  innumerable  points  with  regard  to  certain  Russian  ceremonies 
and  customs  ;  and  these  he  purposed  studying  on  the  spot  in  the 
course  of  a  tour  to  St.  Petersburg  and  Moscow,  which  he  contem- 
plated making  during  the  coming  winter.  In  short,  he  begged 
me  not  to  press  him  upon  the  subject,  and  offered  to  furnish  me, 
when  spring  came  round,  with  a  drama  in  lieu  of  that  which  he 
felt  bound  to  hold  back. 

Notwithstanding  my  disappointment,  I  could  not  choose  but 
yield  to  M.  de  Balzac's  wishes,  and,  in  sheer  despair,  I  entreated 


MAY  i,  i886.]  BALZAC'S   "  MARATEE."  239 

him  to  furnish  me,  if  possible,  with  some  faint  inkling  of  the  new 
subject  which  he  meant  to  work  up  for  us. 

"  It  will  be  an  atrocious  affair,"  replied  Balzac,  with  the  self- 
satisfied  air  of  a  man  who  has  carried  his  point. 

"  How,  atrocious  ?  " 

"  Don't  misunderstand  me  ;  I'm  not  thinking  of  some  coarse 
melodrama,  in  which  the  traitor  of  the  piece  sets  fire  to  houses 
wholesale,  and  poniards  the  inmates  ad  libitum.  No ;  the  play 
which  I  am  hatching  is  a  drawing-room  drama,  in  which  calm- 
ness, tranquillity,  and  politeness  are  the  order  of  the  day.  The 
men  are  quietly  seated  at  the  whist-table,  playing  a  rubber  by  the 
light  of  wax  candles,  crowned  with  small  green  shades.  The 
•vomen  are  laughing  and  chattering  over  their  embroidery.  The 
family  tea  is  on  the  table.  In  short,  for  aught  that  meets  the  eye, 
the  most  perfect  harmony  and  goodwill  remain  undisturbed.  Yet, 
beneath  this  smooth,  untroubled  surface,  the  passions  are  at  work ; 
slowly,  and  in  silence  and  secrecy,  the  drama  proceeds ;  till  at 
length,  like  the  flame  of  a  conflagration  which  has  long  been 
smouldering,  it  leaps  to  light,  and  sweeps  everything  before  it 
in  its  destructive  fury.  That's  the  sort  of  thing  I  have  in  mind." 

"  Master,  you  are  in  your  own  element.  So,  then,  the  ground- 
work of  your  play  is  ready  laid  ?  " 

"  Most  assuredly.  It  is  to  the  authorVstanding  collaborator — 
Chance — that  I  owe  the  materials  I  know  a  certain  family,  which 
I  will  not  name,  consisting  of  three  members — first,  the  husband  ; 
secondly,  his  daughter  by  a  former  marriage ;  thirdly,  her  step- 
mother, who  is  still  young,  and  without  children  of  her  own.  The 
two  women  worship  one  another.  The  tender  devotion  of  one, 
the  pretty  caresses  and  endearments  of  the  other,  call  forth  the 
admiration  of  all  their  acquaintances.  Yes,  and  I  myself  also 
found  it  all  very  charming — at  first.  But,  after  awhile,  I  began  to 
wonder,  not  that  step-daughter  and  step-mother  should  be  fond 
of  each  other — there  is  nothing  positively  unnatural  in  that — but 
that  they  should  be  so  excessively  fond.  It  is  possible  to  have  too 
much  even  of  a  good  thing.  Well,  do  what  I  would,  I  could  not 
keep  myself  from  wratching  their  behaviour  to  each  other,  and 
sundry  trivial  incidents  tended  to  confirm  my  original  impression. 
It  was  only  a  few  evenings  ago  that  a  more  important  incident 
occurred  to  convince  me  that  I  had  not  jumped  to  a  rash  conclusion. 

"On  presenting  myself  in  the  drawing-room,  at  a  time  when 


24o  THE    THEATRE.  [MAY  i,  1886. 

almost  everyone  else  had  gone  away,  I  saw  the  step-daughter 
quit  the  apartment  without  being  aware  of  my  presence.  As  she 
went,  she  looked  at  her  step-mother  ;  and — heavens  ! — what  a 
look  it  was  !  It  was  like  the  stab  of  a  stiletto.  At  that  moment 
the  step-mother  was  putting  out  the  candles  on  the  whist-table. 
Having  done  this,  she  turned  towards  her  step-daughter  ;  their 
eyes  met,  and  the  lips  of  both  the  women  simultaneously  wreathed 
themselves  into  the  most  gracious  of  smiles.  Directly,  however, 
the  door  closed  upon  the  girl,  the  expression  of  the  elder 
woman's  face  suddenly  changed,  and  was  succeeded  by  a 
malignant  scowl. 

"  All  this,  as  you  may  well  suppose,  passed  as  quick  as  light- 
ning ;  but  it  lasted  long  enough  for  me.  '  Here,'  said  I  to  myself, 
'  are  two  creatures  who  hate  each  other  right  cordially.'  What 
had  occurred  I  know  not,  and  I  never  wish  to  know ;  but  with 
this  for  a  starting-point,  an  entire  drama  unfolded  itself  before  my 
mental  vision." 

"  And  on  the  i  first  night '  you  mean  to  give  these  two  ladies  a 
good  box,  in  order  that  they  may  profit  by  the  lesson  designedly 
addressed  to  them  in  the  piece  ?"  I  remarked. 

"Assuredly  I  shall  offer  them  the  box  to  which  you  refer;  and 
since  you  have  mentioned  the  subject,  I  must  ask  you  to  keep  me 
an  extra  one  for  the  purpose  ;  but,  as  for  giving  anyone  lessons,  I 
never  dreamed  of  such  a  thing.  Highly  presumptuous  would  be 
the  novelist  or  dramatist  who  should  write  with  that  intention  ! 
He  influences  his  readers,  or  his  audience,  as  the  case  may  be, 
without  any  definite,  pre-conceived  aim ;  and  he,  in  his  turn,  is 
subject  to  the  influence  of  his  epoch,  without  understanding  how 
or  why — instinct  and  chance  ! 

"  But  to  return  to  these  ladies.  That  they  are  playing  the 
comedy  of  mutual  affection  is  clear  to  me  beyond  a  doubt ;  but 
matters  may  remain  as  they  are  between  them,  without  termi- 
nating in  any  catastrophe,  however  trifling.  All  I  say  is.  that 
they  have  supplied  me  with  the  basis  of  a  plot.  My  terrible 
superstructure  is  purely  and  simply  the  work  of  my  imagination, 
and  will  never,  I  wrould  fain  hope  and  believe,  find  its  counterpart 
in  the  actual  future  of  these  two  ladies.  In  any  case,  if  their 
disunion  should  involve — which  God  foibid! — the  seeds  of  a 
tragical  denouement,  it  might  well  be  that  my  play  would  prevent 
those  seeds  from  germinating." 


MAY  i, -i886.]  BALZAC S    «  MARATRE."  241 

Several  months  elapsed.  The  journey  to  Russia  took  place.  I 
was  among  the  first  to  hear  of  M.  de  Balzac's  return  ;  and  I  has- 
tened to  call  upon  him  at  his  house  in  the  Avenue  Fortunee.* 
The  door  at  which  I  knocked  was  the  last  upon  the  right-hand 
side,  as  you  approach  from  the  Champs  Elysees.  There  was 
nothing  imposing  in  the  aspect  of  the  entrance  to  the  house, 
which  was  furnished  with  a  small  grated  window,  that  was 
quickly  opened  in  answer  to  my  ring  by  a  man-servant  in  a  red 
jacket,  who  asked  me  my  name  and  quality,  then  disappeared, 
but  only  to  reappear  a  moment  later  and  lead  the  way,  through  a 
small  garden  with  narrow  macadamised  paths,  to  the  door  of  the 
house  itself.  On  entering  the  somewhat  low-ceiled  saloon  into 
which  my  guide  conducted  me,  the  first  object  that  attracted  my 
attention  was  David  D'Anzers's  noble  statue,  in  white  marble,  of 
the  master  of  the  house. 

Balzac  himself  was  at  the  further  end  of  the  apartment.  When 
I  had  gazed  my  fill  at  the  bust,  he  called  out  to  me,  "  Here  is 
your  manuscript."  Then,  and  not  till  then,  did  I  catch  sight  of 
the  author.  Clad  in  his  flowing,  monastic  robe  of  white  wool,  he 
was  standing  at  a  writing-table,  with  his  hand  resting  on  a  packet 
of  light  grey  paper.  Yet  no  nugget  that  ever  gladdened  the  eyes 
of  the  gold-digger  with  its  yellow  gleam  could  possibly  look 
brighter  to  his  eyes  than  that  pile  of  sober-tinted  paper  did  to 
mine. 

I  pressed  forward.  On  the  outer  page  of  the  MS.  Balzac  had 
written  with  his  own  hand,  in  large  characters,  the  words — 

"  GERTRUDE,  Tragedie  Bourgeoise,  en  cinq  actes,  en  prose." 
On  the  other  side  was  the  projected  "cast"  of  the  piece. 
Melingue  was  to  act  the  part  of  Ferdinand,  the  lover  of  the  step- 
mother and  of  her  daughter.  The  part  of  Gertrude  was  allotted 
to  Mme.  Dorval.  The  other  roles  were  assigned  to  Mathis,  Barre, 
Saint-Leon,  Gaspari,  &c.  Beneath  the  "  cast "  the  author  had 
jotted  down  the  most  minute  instructions  as  to  the  period  assigned 
to  the  events  of  the  play,  its  mechanism,  properties,  and  decora- 
tions. He  had  even  gone  so  far  as  to  give  the  exact  measure  of 
the  double  carpet  which  he  deemed  a  necessary  part  of  the  misc- 
en-sccnc. 

We  decided  that  a  preliminary  reading  should  take  place  at 

*  Now  the  Rue  Balzac. 


242  THE  THEATRE.  [MAY  i,  1886. 

Balzac's  house  on  the  next  day  but  one,  and  I  undertook  to  bring 
Mme.  Dorval  and  Melingue  with  me.  On  the  appointed  day 
we  all  met,  and  the  author  opened  the  proceedings  by  reading 
out,  in  a  clear  voice,  the  title  of  the  piece — "  Gertrude,  tragedie 
bourgeoise !  " 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  Gertrude  !  A  tragedy  !  "  muttered  Mme.  Dorval 
in  an  undertone. 

"  No  interruptions  !  "  said  Balzac,  laughingly. 

Then  he  resumed  his  manuscript,  and  a  religious  silence  pre- 
vailed. At  the  end  of  the  second  act  he  stopped.  The  length  and 
copiousness  of  the  work  rendered  it  impossible  to  go  any  further 
for  the  present.  On  taking  leave  of  the  author,  it  did  not  occur 
to  any  of  us  to  pay  him  any  compliments  upon  what  we  had  been 
listening  to,  our  heads  being  as  completely  muddled  as  if  we  had 
been  drinking  so  much  heady  wine. 

Without  seeming  to  have  noticed  our  inreverential  silence, 
Balzac  escorted  us  to  the  door  of  his  house,  and  arranged  for 
another  meeting.  When  it  took  place,  he  read  us  the  last  three 
acts  of  the  play.  The  fact  of  Pauline's  suicide  being  treated  his- 
torically, instead  of  dramatically,  elicited  another  start  from  Mme. 
Dorval.  Balzac  perceived  it,  stopped  short,  looked  at  her  for  a 
moment,  and  said,  "  I  understand."  After  that  he  read  straight 
on  to  the  end  of  the  fifth  act,  when,  without  waiting  for  any, 
remarks  from  us,  he  exclaimed  :  "  Piece  too  long — a  quarter  of  it 
to  be  cut  out — a  narrative  to  be  turned  into  action " 

"  And  a  title  and  an  actor  to  be  changed,"  added  Mme.  Dorval 
promptly  and  decidedly,  pointing  to  the  word  "  Gertrude  "  with 
one  hand  and  with  the  other  to  Melingue,  who  bowed  his  head  in 
token  of  acquiescence. 

The  suggested  change  of  title  encountered  no  opposition.  In 
place  of  the  original  name  was  substituted  that  of  "  La  Maratre," 
which  the  play  still  triumphantly  retains.  But  as  to  getting  rid  of 
Melingue,  that  was  quite  another  affair.  Balzac  could  not  by  any 
means  be  brought  to  sanction  this  alteration  in  the  projected 
"  cast  ";  and  there  ensued  a  long  and  tedious,  though  courteously 
conducted  discussion,  which  Melingue  eventually  brought  to  a  close 
by  saying : 

"  So  then  it  seems  you  have  set  your  heart  upon  my  playing  the 
part  ?" 

"  Positively." 


MAV  i,  1886.]  BALZACS    "  MAR.  1  'IRE:'  243 

"  Vrery  well,  then,  I  submit." 

Deeply  affected  by  Melinguc's  surrender,  Balzac  paced  up  and 
down  the  room  two  or  three  times  in  perfect  silence.  Then  he 
went  to  Melingue,  and  said  : 

"  No,  I  cannot  permit  this.  Convinced  that  you  are  the  man 
for  the  part,  yes,  you  should  play  it  on  that  footing;  but  from 
mere  deference  to  my  wishes,  never  !  Your  giving  away  to  them 
is  a  strong  proof  of  friendship  and  esteem,  and,  as  such,  it  has 
deeply  moved  me.  But  leave  the  role  to  shift  for  itself,  and  give 
me  your  hand." 

Melingue  was  very  much  touched  at  this,  and  there  was  not  one 
of  us  who  did  not  share  his  emotion. 

In  the  result,  a  series  of  discussions  between  Balzac  and  Mme. 
Dorval  led  to  divers  felicitous  modifications  of  the  piece  ;  among 
others,  the  addition  of  the  room  in  which  Pauline  commits 
suicide  to  the  one  set  scene  of  the  drama,  namely,  the  drawing- 
room,  in  which  all  the  rest  of  the  action  takes  place. 

Though  ill  and  weak,  that  courageous  actress  threw  all  her 
energies  into  the  rehearsals  of  the  piece.  Nothing  could  possibly 
surpass  the  charming  spirit  of  compliance  which  she  displayed 
throughout ;  and  deep  and  lasting  was  the  impression  which  it 
left  on  all  who  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  associated  with  her  in 
this  undertaking.  It  was  on  one  of  these  occasions  that,  in  a 
sudden  access  of  that  winning  playfulness  in  which  she  so 
frequently  indulged,  she  seized  a  pen,  and,  standing  at  the 
prompter's  desk,  sketched  me  a  little  landscape,  whose  very  child- 
ishness of  execution  invests  it  with  a  charm,  which  now,  alas !  is 
heightened,  since  death  has  hallowed  it  with  the  tender  consecra- 
tion that  his  touch  imparts  even  to  the  most  trifling  souvenirs  of 
those  whom  we  have  loved  and  admired.  At  this  very  period, 
indeed,  Mme.  Dorval's  constitution  was  already  undermined  by 
the  incurable  complaint  which  was  destined  so  soon  to  complete 
its  cruel  work.  Compelled  eventually  to  resign  her  part,  she  found 
a  successor  in  Mme.  Lacressoniere,  who  acquitted  herself  of  it 
—how  brilliantly  the  whole  world  knows.  Yet  one  day,  when  we 
were  all  congratulating  her  on  her  success,  she  effectually  silenced 
us  by  saying : 

"  Ah,  what  would  you  have  said  if  she  had  played  it  ?" 

It  was  in  June,  1848,  that  is  to  say,  in  the  very  thick  of  one  of 
the  gravest  of  all  political  crises  that  can  possibly  be  imagined— 


244 


THE   THEATRE.   .  [MAY  i, 


at  a  time,  therefore,"  when  the  theatres  were  necessarily  almost 
deserted — that  "  La  Maratre  "  was  first  produced.  Nevertheless, 
so  great  is  the  attractive  power  of  genius,  that  all  the  distinguished 
men  of  letters  who  still  remained  in  Paris  flocked  to  the  theatre, 
and  accorded  Balzac's  work  that  warm  and  sympathetic  welcome 
which  it  so  thoroughly  deserved. 

On  the  morrow  of  the  representation,  I  went  to  call  upon  the 
author.  "  Well,  we  gained  the  victory,"  I  said  to  him,  in  gleeful 
tones.  "  Yes,"  replied  he,  "  Just  such  a  victory  as  Charles  the 
Twelfth's."  In  taking  leave  of  him,  I  ventured  to  ask  him  where 
he  had  been  on  the  previous  evening,  and  to  reproach  him  for  not 
having  made  his  appearance  among  us.  "  Where  was  I  ?  "  he 
smilingly  replied.  "  Why,  slily  esconced  in  the  box  of  Mme. 
and  Mdlle.  X."  "  Ah  !  and  what  happened  ?  "  I  added,  bursting 
with  curiosity.  "  Well,"  replied  the  author,  "  the  piece  interested 
them  profoundly.  When  the  crisis  arrived,  in  which  Pauline 
poisons  herself,  in  order  to  create  the  impression  that  her  step- 
mother has  murdered  her,  the  young  lady  uttered  a  cry  of  horror, 
a:id  darting  a  tearfully  reproachful  glance  at  me,  caught  hold  of 
her  step-mother's  hand,  and  kissed  it  with  a  fervour." 

"  That  was  not  assumed,"  I  interposed. 

"  I  am  certain  of  that,"  replied  Balzac. 

"So,  master,  you  clearly  see  that  after  all  your  piece  may  teach  a 
lesson  !  " 


MAY  i,  1886.1  JAMES     QUIN.  245 


James      Quin. 

BY     AUSTIN      B  R  i-:  K  E  T  o  N  . 

THE  career  of  James  Quin  was  one  of  unbroken  prosperity 
From  his  appearance  as  Falstaff  in  1720  until  his  retirement 
in  1751,  when  Garrick  had  eclipsed  him,  he  scarcely  had  a  rival  save 
the  lazy  Delane.  His  word  was  law  ;  his  managers  feared  him  ; 
and  when  he  retired  to  Bath  it  was  with  a  comfortable  income 
for  the  remaining  fifteen  years  of  his  life.  He  was  a  good  liver 
and  a  dangerous  duellist.  He  was  born  in  King  Street,  Covent 
Garden,  on  February  24,  1693.  His  father,  James  Quin,  of 
Trinity  College,  Dublin,  was  a  student  at  Lincoln's  Inn  and  was 
called  to  the  bar.  He  had  to  go  to  Ireland  in  1700  to  look  after 
his  property,  and  he  took  his  boy  with  him.  Quin's  mother  was 
a  reputed  widow.  Her  husband  had  gone  to  the  West  "indies, 
had  absented  himself  for  seven  years,  and  was  generally  believed 
to  be  dead.  Mourning  was  donned  for  a  due  period  by  the  des- 
pondent lady,  who  eventually  sought  consolation  in  the  com- 
panionship of  Mr.  James  Quin,  to  whom  she  was  united,  when  a 
dramatic  situation  occurred — husband  number  one  turned  up, 
claimed  his  wife,  and  had  her  !  Young  Quin  was  thus  rendered 
illegitimate.  But  his  father  did  not  neglect  the  boy.  He  was 
educated  in  Dublin  until  1710,  when  he  came  to  London  and  took 
chambers  in  the  Temple,  as  his  father  destined  him  for  the  bar. 
The  elder  Quin,  however,  died  shortly  after  his  son  came  to  the 
metropolis.  Our  actor  being  almost  penniless,  was  forced  to 
abandon  his  studies,  and  he  used  to  say  in  after  years  that 
he  read  men,  not  books.  The  stage  had  already  gained  his 
affections,  and  he  determined  to  try  his  fortune  on  it.  Even  at  his 
early  age  he  had  many  requisites  for  a  good  actor  :  an  expressive 
countenance ;  a  clear,  piercing  eye  ;  a  full,  melodious  voice ;  a 
capital  memory  ;  a  distinct  pronunciation  ;  and  a  majestic  figure. 
Quin  is  frequently  represented  as  not  having  appeared  on  the  stage 
until  1717.  But  in  1714  he  was  playing  insignificant  parts  in 


246  THE     THEATRE.  [MAY  i,  1886. 

Dublin,  where  he  remained  a  year,  when  he  came  to  London,  on 
the  advice  of  Chetwood,  and  was  engaged  for  the  season  of  1715 
at  Drury  Lane.  Here  he  played  the  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower  in 
"Lady  Jane  Grey,"  the  Steward  in  "What  D'ye  Call  It?" 
Vulture  in  "  Country  Lasses,"  and  other  equally  small  parts.  But 
in  December,  1716,  he  appeared  as  Antonio — a  part  chosen  by 
him  in  after  years  in  preference  to  Shylock.  In  November  of  the 
same  year  he  had  played  Bajazet  in  "Tamerlane"  with  great  suc- 
sess,  in  place  of  Mills,  who  was  taken  suddenly  ill.  But  not  meet- 
ing with  encouragement  at  Drury  Lane,  he  passed  over  to  Lincoln's 
Inn  Fields,  in  1717,  and  was  attached  to  Rich's  company  for 
seventeen  years  afterwards.  His  advance  here  was  not  rapid,  and 
it  was  not  till  1720  that  he  distinguished  himself.  Rich  wished  to 
revive  "  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,"  but  no  actor  could  be 
found  for  the  part  of  Falstaff.  "  I  will  venture  it,"  said  Quin. 
"You!  "cried  the  astonished  manager,  "you  might  as  well  try 
Cato  after  Booth.  The  character  of  Falstaff  is  quite  another 
character  from  what  you  think.  It  is  not  a  little  snivelling  part 
that  anyone  can  do,  and  there  isn't  a  man  among  you  that  has  any 
idea  of  the  part  but  myself."  Eventually  Quin  was  allowed  to 
have  his  way,  and  on  October  22,  1720,  the  comedy  was  produced 
with  Quin  as  Falstaff,  Ryan  as  Ford,  Spiller  as  Dr.  Caius,  Boheme 
as  Justice  Shallow,  and  Griffiths  as  Sir  Hugh  Evans.  Quin  was  so 
excellent  that  no  actor  save  John  Henderson  has  since  equalled 
him  in  this  character. 

Quin's  next  hit  was  made  in  the  character  of  Old  Knowell  in  the 
revival  of  "  Every  Man  in  His  Humour,"  in  1725.  Three  years 
later,  Quin,  who  had  an  ear  for  music,  was  offered  Macheath  in 
"  The  Beggar's  Opera,"  but  he  gave  up  the  part  to  an  inferior  actor. 
Shortly  after  the  removal  of  the  company  to  Covent  Garden,  in 
1732,  he  acted  Lycomedes  in  Gay's  opera  of  "  Achilles."  In  the 
beginning  of  the  season  of  1734-35,  he  left  Covent  Garden  and 
went  over  to  Drury  Lane  on  "  such  terms  as  no  hired  actor  ever 
had  before."  During  his  long  service  with  Rich  he  played  no 
great  part  excepting  Falstaff,  yet  he  was  a  valued  actor,  and  he  had 
a  high  sense  of  his  own  importance.  He  was  apt  to  be  curt  on 
occasions.  "  I  am  at  Bath,"  he  once  wrote  to  Rich.  "  Stay 

there  and  be  d d,"  was  the  equally  laconic  reply  of  his  manager. 

From  the  time  of  Quin's  establishment  at  Drury  Lane,  until  the 
appearance  of  Garrick  in  1741,  he  held  the  foremost  rank  in  his 


MAY  r,  1886.]  JAlfES     QUIN.  247 

profession.  His  Cato  and  Brutus  were  excellent  performances. 
When  he  was  about  to  act  the  former  character  the  remembrance 
of  Barton  Booth  tempted  him  to  announce  that  Cato  would  "  only 
be  attempted  "  by  him,  but  at  the  words  "  Thanks  be  to  the  gods, 
my  boy  has  done  his  duty,"  the  audience  applauded  with  universal 
assent,  and  cried  "Booth  outdone!  "  His  Henry  VIII,  Volpone, 
Gloster,  Apemantus,  and "  all  the  Falstaffs,"  were  also  among 
his  best  performances.  He  failed  in  Macbeth,  Othello,  Richard  III, 
and  Lear.  Quin  seems  to  have  had  all  the  faults  of  the  old 
school  of  actors — he  was  dull,  heavy,  pompous,  and  given  to 
immeasurably  long  pauses  in  his  speeches.  In  1735,  Aaron  Hill 
published  a  paper  called  "The  Prompter,"  in  which  he  attacked 
some  of  the  principal  actors  of  his  day,  but  more  particularly 
Colley  Gibber  and  Quin.  Gibber  only  laughed  at  his  remarks, 
but  Quin  got  angry  at  them.  The  paragraph  which  gave  offence 
to  the  actor  contains  much  truth,  and  points  out  the  worst  defects 
of  Quin's  style  and  of  the  school  to  which  he  belonged  :— 

And  as  to  you  Mr.  All-weight,  you  lose  the  advantages  of  your 
deliberate  articulation,  distinct  use  of  pausing,  solemn  significance, 
and  that  composed  air  and  gravity  of  your  motion  ;  for  though  there 
arises  from  all  these  good  qualities  an  esteem  that  will  continue  and 
increase  the  number  of  your  friends,  yet  those  among  them  who  wish 
best  to  your  interest,  will  always  be  uneasy  at  observing  perfection 
so  nearly  within  your  reach,  and  your  spirits  not  disposed  to  stretch 
out  and  take  possession.  To  be  always  deliberate  and  solemn  is  an 
error,  as  certainly,  though  not  as  unpardonably,  as  never  to  be  so.  To 
pause  where  no  pauses  are  necessary,  is  the  way  to  destroy 
their  effect  where  the  sense  stands  in  need  of  their  assistance.  And, 
though  dignity  is  finely  maintained  by  the  weight  of  majestic  com- 
posure, yet  are  there  scenes  in  your  parts  where  the  voice  should  be 
sharp  and  impatient,  the  look  disordered  and  agonised,  the  action 
precipitate  and  turbulent ;  for  the  sake  of  such  difference  as  we  see 
in  some  smooth  canal,  where  the  stream  is  scarce  visible  compared 
with  the  other  end  of  the  same  canal,  rushing  rapidly  down  a  cascade, 
and  breaking  beauties  which  owe  their  attraction  to  their  violence. 

Gum's  deliberate  delivery  is  illustrated  by  his  playing  in  "  The 
Fair  Penitent,"  when  one  night  Garrick,  all  eagerness  and  fire, 
had  challenged  Horatio.  Quin  made  so  long  a  pause  before  reply- 
ing that  a  man  in  the  gallery  called  out  "  Why  don't  you  give  the 
gentleman  an  answer  ? " 

"  With  a  bottle  of  claret  and  a  full  house,"  says  Tate  Wilkinson, 
"the  instant  he  was  on  the  stage,  he  was  Sir  John  Falstaff  him- 
self. His  comely  countenance,  his  expressive  eye,  his  happy  swell 
of  voice,  and  natural  importance  of  deportment,  all  united  to  make 
up  a  most  characteristic  piece  of  acting ;  and  when  detected  in 


248  THE    THEATRE.  LMAV  i,  1886. 

the  lie,  there  was  such  a  gloomy  feature  and  expression  as  will 
never  be  equalled. "  Foote  was  enthusiastic  in  praise  of  this  per- 
formance. "  I  can  only  recommend  a  man,"  he  said,  "who  wants 
to  see  a  character  perfectly  played,  to  see  Mr.  Quin  in  the  part  of 
Falstaff,  and  if  he  does  not  express  a  desire  of  spending  an  evening 
with  that  merry  mortal,  why,  I  would  not  spend  one  with  him  if 
he  were  to  pay  my  reckoning."  In  1761,  ten  years  after  his  re- 
tirement, he  was  brought  into  notice  once  more  by  the  publication 
of  "The  Rosciad,"  in  which  Churchill  described  his  theatrical 
character  : — 

"  Quin,  from  afar,  lur'd  by  the  scent  ot  fame, 
A  stage  Leviathan,  put  in  his  claim  ; 
Pupil  of  Betterton  and  Booth.     Alone, 

Sullen  he  walk'd,  and  deem'd  the  chair  his  own. 

*  *  * 

His  words  bore  sterling  weight,  nervous  and  strong, 

In  manly  tides  of  sense  they  roll'd  along  : 

Happy  in  art,  he  chiefly  had  pretence 

To  keep  up  numbers,  yet  not  forfeit  sense. 

No  actor  ever  greater  heights  could  reach 

In  all  the  labour'd  artifice  of  speech. 

*  *  * 

His  eyes,  in  gloomy  sockets  taught  to  roll, 
Proclaim'd  the  sullen  habit  of  his  soul  : 
Heavy  and  phlegmatic,  he  trod  the  stage, 

Too  proud  for  tenderness,  too  dull  for  rage. 

*  *  * 

In  fancy'd  scenes,  as  in  life's  real  plan, 
He  could  not  for  a  moment  sink  the  man. 
In  whate'er  cast  his  character  was  laid, 
Self  still,  like  oil,  upon  the  surface  play'd. 
Nature,  in  spite  of  all  his  skill,  crept  in — 
Horatio,  Dorax,  Falstaff — still  'twas  QUIN." 

His  farewell  to  the  stage  took  place  on  May  20,  1751,  when  he 
acted  Horatio  in  "The  Fair  Penitent."  He  then  retired  to  Bath, 
where  he  chiefly  spent  the  remaining  fifteen  years  of  his  life. 
He  came  to  London,  however,  once  or  twice,  to  play  Falstaff  for 
the  benefit  of  his  friend,  Lacy  Ryan,  the  last  occasion  of  his 
performing  that  character  being  on  March  19,  1753.  In  the 
following  year  Ryan  asked  him  to  play  again,  but  Quin  had  lost 
some  of  his  teeth,  and  so  declined  to  accede  to  his  friend's 
request.  "  I  would  play  for  you  if  I  could,"  he  wrote,  "  but  I  will 
not  whistle  for  you.  I  have  willed  you  a  thousand  pounds.  If 
you  want  money  you  may  have  it,  and  save  my  executors  trouble." 
Ryan  took  the  thousand  pounds.  When  the  poet  Thomson  was 
in  durance  vile  for, debt,  Quin  visited  him,  and  after  supper  gave 
the  astonished  author  a  bank-note  for  a  hundred  pounds,  saying 


MAY  i,  1886.]  JAMES    QUIN.  249 

he  estimated  the  pleasure  which  he  had  derived  from  reading 
"The  Seasons"  at  exactly  that  value.  Thomson,  remembering 
this  act  of  kindness,  paid  a  tribute  to  the  actor  in  his  "  Castle  of 
Indolence  "  : — • 

"  With  double  force  th'enlivened  scene  he  wakes, 
Yet  quits  not  nature's  bounds.     He  knows  how  to  keep 
Each  due  decorum.     Now  the  heart  he  shakes, 
And  now  with  well-urg'd  sense  th'enlighten'd  judgment  takes." 

There  is  yet  another  anecdote  on  record  which  helps  to  illustrate 
the  genuine  generosity  of  his  nature.  Richard  Winstone,  an 
actor  and  a  friend  of  Quin's,  once  quarrelled  with  his  manager, 
and,  abruptly  leaving  London,  went  to  Wales.  Two  years  later, 
the  vessel  in  which  he  was  sailing  was  wrecked  on  the  Welsh 
coast,  and  Winstone  lost  his  clothes  and  his  small  store  of  cash. 
In  this  distressed  condition  he  scrambled  up  to  London,  and 
sulked  in  bed,  in  a  lodging  in  Covent  Garden,  for  two  days. 
Quin,  hearing  of  Winstone's  distress,  had  him  restored  to  the 
theatre  at  his  old  salary,  and  then  called  upon  his  tailor  and 
purchased  him  a  suit  of  clothes.  He  took  the  following  odd  way 
of  announcing  to  Winstone  the  change  in  his  fortunes  :  "  Why 
are  you  not  at  rehearsal  ?  "  he  asked.  On  Quin  explaining  the 
case,  poor  Winstone  fell  on  his  knees  for  gratitude.  "  But, 

z ds,  my  dear  Jemmy,"  he  said,  "  what  shall  I  do  for  clothes 

and  a  little  ready  money."  "  As  for  clothes,"  was  the  reply, 
"there  they  are  ;  but  as  for  money,  you  must  put  your  hand  in 
you  own  pocket."  Quin  had  placed  ten  guineas  there. 

It  fell  to  Quin's  lot  to  kill  two  brother  actors.  The  first  to  die 
by  his  hand  was  Bowen,  who  quarrelled  with  Quin  because  the 
latter  asserted  that  Ben  Jonson  acted  Jacomo  in  "  The  Libertine  " 
better  than  Bowen.  Bowen  pursued  Quin  to  the  Pope's  Head, 
where  Quin  was  forced  to  stand  on  the  defensive.  Bowen  was 
mortally  wounded.  This  was  on  April  17,  1717.  He  died  three 
days  later.  Quin  was  acquitted  in  the  July  following,  and  shortly 
afterwards  returned  to  the  stage.  His  next  encounter  took  place 
a  year  later,  in  consequence  of  an  unlucky  slip  made  by  a  little 
Welsh  actor  named  Williams,  who  was  playing  Decius  to  Quin's 
Cato.  He  entered  with  "  Caesar  sends  health  to  Cato,"  but  he 
affectedly  pronounced  the  latter,  "  Keeto."  Quin,  irritated  at  this, 

instead  of  replying — 

"  Could  he  send  it 
To  Cato's  slaughtered  friends  it  would  be  welcome," 

NEW    SERIES. — VOL.    VII.  T 


250  THE  THEATRE.  [MAY  i, 

exclaimed,  "  Would  he  had  sent  a  better  messenger !  "  This 
brought  the  derision  of  the  audience  down  upon  Williams,  who 
was  naturally  angered  at  Quin,  and  lay  in  wait  for  him  in  the 
Piazza.  Quin  would  have  defended  himself  with  his  cane,  but  he 
was  forced  to  draw  in  self-defence,  and  after  a  few  passes 
poor  Williams  lay  lifeless  on  the  pavement.  Quin  was  again 
brought  to  the  Old  Bailey,  and  again  acquitted.  In  1739,  Quin 
was  engaged  in  yet  a  third  encounter.  He  quarrelled  at  the 
Bedford  Coffee  -  house  with  Colley  Gibber's  scapegrace  son, 
Theophilus,  whom  he  dragged  into  the  Piazza.  Quin  was  cut  on 
the  fingers,  and  Gibber  slightly  wounded  in  the  left  arm.  Their 
wounds  having  been  dressed,  the  pair  were  for  fighting  again,  but 
the  company  separated  them,  and  prevented  further  mischief. 

Despite  a  pompous  and  almost  insolent  manner,  Quin  had  much 
goodness  of  heart.  When  Miss  Bellamy  came  to  the  stage  she 
had  many  admirers  amongst  the  opposite  sex.  So  Quin  called 
her  to  him,  and  delivered  himself  thus  :  "  My  dear  girl !  you 
are  vastly  followed,  I  hear.  Do  not  let  the  love  of  finery  or  any 
other  inducement  permit  you  to  make  an  indiscretion.  Men 
in  general  are  rascals.  You  are  young  and  engaging,  and 
therefore  ought  to  be  doubly  cautious.  If  you  want  anything 
which  money  can  purchase,  come  to  me,  and  say,  '  James  Quin, 
give  me  such  a  thing,'  and  my  purse  shall  always  be  at  your 
service."  On  the  other  hand,  he  could  be  brutal  enough  on 
occasion.  A  foolish  mother  pestered  him  about  her  baby,  but 
Quin  took  no  notice  of  the  infant.  "  Lord  !  Mr.  Quin,  can  you 
be  so  strange  as  not  to  love  children  ?  "  "  You  mistake  me 
exceedingly,  madam,"  replied  the  veteran ;  "  I  love  children 
of  all  things — boiled  with  bacon  and  greens."  Quin  licking 
his  lips  as  he  said  this,  the  frightened  mother  left  the  wit  to 
himself.  His  powers  of  retort  never  failed  him.  A  little  while 
before  his  death  he  was  painfully  crawling  along  the  promenade 
at  Bath,  when  a  pert  young  officer,  after  dancing  about  and 
showing  other  signs  of  activity,  said,  "  There,  Mr.  Quin,  what 
would  you  give  to  do  as  I  do  ?  "  "Young  gentleman,  he  replied, 
"  I  would  give  a  great  deal :  I  would  be  content  to  be  as  foolish  as 
you  are."  When  he  first  retired  to  Bath  the  actors  of  the  city 
were  remarkable  for  the  shortness  of  their  stature.  Quin,  being 
present  at  a  performance  of  "  Soliman,  the  Emperor  of  the 
Turks,"  was  asked  by  the  manager  what  he  thought  of  the 


MAY  i,  ,885.]  FAMES     QUIN.  25I 

company.  "  By  heavens,  they  are  but  .v/>mA-  of  Miissulmen,'*  was 
his  punning  criticism.  He  was  considered  a  great  epicure,  and 
was  particularly  fond  of  John  Dory,  a  haunch  of  venison,  and 
claret.  Dining  one  night  with  a  rich  but  stingy  nobleman,  his 
host  apologised  for  not  being  able  to  offer  him  more  than  one 
bottle  of  wine,  as  he  had  lost  the  key  of  his  wine-cellar.  Whilst 
•coffee  was  being  prepared  he  showed  Ouin,  amongst  other 
curiosities,  an  ostrich.  "  This  bird  has  a  peculiar  property,"  said 
the  host,  "  he  swallows  iron."  "  Does  he  ?  "  replied  the  wit  ; 
""  then  very  likely  he  has  swallowed  the  key  of  your  wine-cellar." 
While  on  the  stage,  he  and  Garrick  were  not  very  intimate,  but 
after  his  retirement  he  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  Hampton.  While 
on  a  visit  to  Garrick  in  1765  an  eruption  broke  out  in  his  hand, 
which  so  affected  his  spirits  that  it  brought  on  an  attack  of 
hypocondna  ;  fever  followed,  and  he  died,  at  his  own  house 
in  Bath,  on  January  21,  1766.  The  day  before  he  died  he  drank 
a  bottle  of  claret,  and,  being  aware  of  his  approaching  dissolution, 
•said  he  could  wish  that  the  last  tragic  scene  were  over,  though  he 
was  in  hopes  that  he  should  be  able  to  go  through  it  with 
becoming  dignity.  He  was  buried  in  the  Abbey  Church,  Bath. 
Garrick  wrote  the  following  epitaph  for  his  monument  : — 

"  That  tongue  that  set  the  table  in  a  roar, 
And  charm'd  the  public  ear,  is  heard  no  more  ; 
Clos'd  are  those  eyes,  the  harbingers  of  wit, 
Which  spake  before  the  tongue,  what  Shakespeare  writ ; 
Cold  is  that  hand,  that  living  was  stretch'd  forth 
At  friendship's  call,  to  succour  modest  worth ; 
Here  lies  JAMES  QUIN.     Deign,  reader,  to  be  taught, 
Whate'er  thy  strength  of  body,  force  of  thought, 
In  nature's  happiest  mould,  however  cast, 
*  To  this  complexion  thou  must  come  at  last.'  1: 

By  his  will  he  left  £2,371,  in  various  sums  ranging  from  five 
hundred  pounds  to  twenty  guineas,  and  including  fifty 
pounds  for  "  Mr.  Thomas  Gainsborough,  limner."  He 
also  left,  "  as  by  a  very  foolish  promise,"  his  gold  repeating  watch, 
chain,  and  seals  to  one  Daniel  Leckie.  Soon  after  his  death  there 
was  published,  by  S.  Bladon,  i2mo,  "  The  Life  of  Mr.  James 
Ouin,  Comedian."  It  contains  a  portrait  of  Ouin  as  a  frontis- 
piece, and  it  is  dedicated  to  Garrick.  It  is  a  very  scarce 
pamphlet,  and  it  is  also  exceedingly  inaccurate  and  full  of 
irrelevant  matter.  Like  many  another  theatrical  memoir  of  the 
last  century,  it  requires  handling  with  the  tongs. 

T    -2 


252  THE   THEATRE  -MAY  It  l8 


"Hamlet,"   with  Alterations, 

BY  PERCY  FITZGERALD. 

IT  is  astonishing  to  think  that  a  man  of  such  nice  and 
delicate  taste  as  Garrick  should  have  been  prompted  to  lay 
violent  hands  on  Shakespeare's  great  work,  and  to  have  mangled 
it  in  the  most  cruel  and  unscrupulous  fashion.  All  are  alive  to  the 
difficulties  of  presenting  the  accumulated  slaughters  of  the  last  act 
of  "Hamlet,"  but  the  judicious  have  felt  that  no  hand  could  mend 
the  matter.  Garrick,  however,  shortly  before  his  retirement,  set 
himself  to  the  task.  One  of  the  persons  he  consulted  on  the 
matter  was  Dr.  Hoadly,  who  encouraged  him  heartily,  and  sent 
him  specimens  of  what  he  thought  were  judicious  alterations.  In 
January,  1773,  he  wrote  to  the  chief  conspirator  :— 

As  to  "  Hamlet,"  we  have  before  now  talked  of  the  possibility  of 
altering  it ;  and,  as  it  was  resolved  at  last,  I  am  sorry  I  knew  nothing 
of  the  matter.  By  your  account,  and  twenty-five  lines  only  added,  / 
fear  too  little  has  been  done.  The  part  which,  in  my  mind,  wanted  most, 
and  admitted  of  good  alterations,  was  Hamlet's  and  Ophelia's  be- 
haviour to  each  other.  There  is  a  poor  cause  assigned  for  all  her 
grief,  and  madness,  and  death — solely  her  father's  being  killed  acci- 
dentally, a  fellow  37ou  are  nothing  concerned  about,  who  talks  one 
minute  like  a  Solomon  and  the  next  like  a  simpleton. 

George  Steevens  also  encouraged  him  in  the  profane  work.  Thus 
stimulated,  he  prepared  the  tragedy,  and  on  February  8,  1774,  the 
new  version  was  produced.  The  alterations  were  startling.  As 
Boaden  says  : — 

If  there  be  any  one  act  of  his  management  which  we  should  wish 
to  blot  out  from  these  pages,  it  is  his  rash  violation  of  the  whole 
scheme  of  Shakespeare's  "  Hamlet."  All  the  contrivances  of  Shake- 
speare, by  which  he  added  absence  from  the  scene  to  the  melancholy 
irresolution  of  the  character,  were  rendered  abortive.  It  became  as 
much  a  monodrame  as  Tim  on,  and  the  passive  Hamlet  was  kept  on 
the  rack  of  perpetual  exertion.  His  very  speeches  were  trimmed  up 
with  startling  exclamations  and  furious  resolves  ;  and  even  Yortck 
himself  was  thrown  out  of  the  play,  to  render  the  wit  and  pathos  of 
Sterne  inapplicable  and  unintelligible.  It  was  an  actor's  mutilation 
of  all 

Garrick  wrote  to  a  friend  this  strange  account  of  his  act :— 


MAY  i,  iS86.]       "HAMLET"    WITH  ALTERATIONS.         253 

I  have  ventured  to  produce  "  Hamlet,"  with  alterations.  It  was 
the  most  imprudent  thing  1  ever  did  in  all  my  life  ;  but  I  had  sworn  I 
would  not  leave  the  stage  till  1  had  rescued  that  noble  play  from  all 
the  rubbish  of  the  fifth  act.  I  have  brought  it  forth  without  the 
gravedigger's  trick  and  the  fencing-match.  The  alteration  was  re- 
ceived with  general  approbation,  beyond  my  most  warm  expectations. 

It  was  known  generally  that  the  gravediggers,  the  promiscuous 
slaughter  of  the  last  scene,  with  a  vast  number  of  items  and 
incidents,  had  been  removed  bodily ;  but,  strange  to  say,  no  one 
has  seen  a  copy.  It  was  never  printed.  Managers  in  the  country 
applied  for  copies,  but  were  refused.  At  the  sale  of  Kemble's 
library,  the  original  copy  presented  by  Mr.  Garrick  himself  to 
Keinble  was  sold,  but  who  was  the  purchaser  does  not  appear. 
This  copy,  however,  had  been  seen  by  Boaden  and  Mr.  Steevens, 
who  gave  an  outline  of  the  changes.  Hence,  there  has  always 
existed  the  curiosity — which  is  always  found  in  matters,  how- 
ever trifling,  where  curiosity  cannot  be  gratified — to  learn  what 
had  become  of  this  performance,  and  what  was  the  exact  nature 
of  the  alterations. 

Last  year,  being  on  the  track  of  "  old  plays  " — always  a  tempt- 
ing and  engaging  pursuit,  which  has,  moreover,  fascinated  the 
great  actors,  Garrick,  Kemble,  Henderson,  Webster,  and  Creswick 
having  each  formed  their  collections — I  found  my  way  to  the 
Kennington  Road,  where  there  existed  a  certain  store-house  for 
such  curiosities,  directed  by  an  excellent  and  intelligent  pair  named 
Grose,  whose  quaint  catalogues  bear  a  likeness  of  the  well-known 
corpulent  captain  of  the  same  name,  well  distinguished  as  a  curious 
dilettante,  where  booksellers  had  purchased  largely  of  the  books  of 
the  late  "  Ben  "  Webster,  who  had  many  of  his  rarest  old  plays 
disposed  of  for  the  usual  "  song"  at  his  death.  A  great  many  of 
them  are  now  happily  stored  on  my  own  shelves,  reposing  in  com- 
fort and  honoured  tranquillity,  having  happily  passed  from  the 
somewhat  rude  and  knockabout  existence  of  the  book-store. 

Among  the  plays  thus  handed  over  to  me,  I  found  one  that  had 
all  the  air  of  a  prompt-book — the  usual  brown  paper  cover,  the 
stage  directions,  interleaves,  &c.  This  proved  to  be  a  quarto 
edition  of  "  Hamlet,"  not  one  of  the  oldest  quartos,  which,  as  such, 
are  worth  far  more  than  their  weight  in  gold.  This  happened  to 
be  a  quarto  of  the  year  1703,  "  as  it  is  now  acted  by  his  Majesty's 
servants" — i.e.,  by  Betterton  and  his  companions — full  of  strange 
misprints  and  readings.  The  alterations  are  in  the  hand  of 


254  THE    THEATRE.  [MAY  i,  188* 

Garrick's  well-known  prompter,  Hopkins,  and  it  is  signed  with  his 
initials,  and  it  was  entitled  :— 

"  H  A  M  L  E  T," 

as  altered  by 
DAVID    GARRICK,     ESQ., 

1777. 

Here,  then,  was  this  long-lost,  curious  piece.  The  first  thing 
that  strikes  me  is  the  enormous  amount  of  "cutting"  which 
D.  Garrick,  Esq.,  dealt  out  to  his  victims.  This,  however,  is  but 
a  negative  sort  of  alteration.  It  is  not,  however,  till  we  come 
to  the  fifth  act  that  the  knife — or  chopper,  rather — was  used 
heartily. 

This  Hoadly  was  eager  to  have  a  share  in  the  sacrilege,  and 
plied  his  friend  with  suggestions.  Among  other  plans  he  sent  the 
following  one  for  " remodelling"  certain  passages  which  seemed 
to  the  doctor  to  be  imperfect.  Garrick,  however,  preferred  his 
own  mutilations. 

Dr.  J.  Hoadly  to  Mr.  Garrick. 

St.  Mary's,  Sept.  3oth,  1773. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  have  put  a  few  thoughts  which  occurred  to  me  on 
your  alteration  of  "  Hamlet  "  upon  paper,  which  you  are  welcome  to 
make  use  of  or  not,  as  you  please  ;  if  I  had  not  thought  them  con- 
sistent and  agreeable  to  the  play,  and  almost  necessary  to  Hamlet's 
character,  I  had  not  wrote  them  down. 

When  Ophelia  has  talked  to  her  father  of  repelling  Hamlet's  letters, 
it  would  not  be  unnatural  for  her  to  give  a  late  one  of  Hamlet's  to 
him,  with  which  he  goes  immediately  to  the  King.  Several  critics 
have  thought  that  the  death  of  her  father  only  is  not  a  just  and 
adequate  cause  for  Ophelia's  madness  and  death  ;  and  as  many  have 
thought  the  character  of  Hamlet  much  injured  by  his  cruel  behaviour 
to  Ophelia. 

In  the  second  scene  of  Ophelia  and  Polonius,  p.  262  of  Theobald's 
8vo.  edition,  I  would  leave  out 

"  Come,  go  with  me.     I  will  go  seek  the  King." 
After  "to  lack  discretion." 

OPH.  .       .       .       There's  his  last  letter  to  me : 

This  packet,  when  the  next  occasion  suits, 
I  shall  return. 

POL.  .       .       .       Go  we  with  this  to  the  King. 

This  must  be  known. 

After  Hamlet's  speech  "  To  be,  or,  not  to  be  "- 

"Soft  you  now, 

The  fair  Ophelia  ! — I  have  made  too  free 
With  that  sweet  lady's  ear.    My  place  in  Denmark, 
The  time's  misrule,  my  heavenly-urged  revenge, 


MAY  i,  i886.]      "HAMLET"    WITH  ALTERATIONS.        255 

Matters  of  giant-stature  gorge  her  love, 
As  fish  the  cormorant.     She  drops  a  tear, 
As  from  her  book  she  steals  her  eye  on  me/' 

In  the  play  scene  the  pantomime  of  the  poisoning  was  solely 
left  out.  At  the  end  of  the  scene  of  Ophelia's  madness,  the  King 
sums  up  the  situation  in  the  following  lines  : — 

KING  :  O  Gertrude,  Gertrude! 

\Vhen  sorrows  come,  they  come  not  single  spies, 

I  Jut  in  battalions.     First  her  father  slain, 

Next  your  son  gone,  and  he  most  frantic  author 

Of  his  own  just  remove  ;  the  people  muddled, 

Thick  and  unwholesome  in  their  thoughts,  and  whisper 

For  good  Polonius's  death.     We've  done  but  greenly, 

In  private  to  inter  him  ;  poor  Ophelia, 

Divided  from  herself,  and  her  fair  judgement 

(Without  which  we're  pictures  or  me'er  beasts), 

Last,  and  as  much  containing  as  all  these, 

Her  brother,  tempest  beaten  back  to  Denmark, 

Feeds  on  this  wonder,  keeps  himself  in  clouds, 

And  wants  not  buzzers  to  infest  his  ear 

With  pestilent  speeches  of  his  father's  death. 

Wherein  necessity  of  matter  beggard, 

Will  nothing  stick  our  persons  to  arraign 

In  ear,  and  ear.     O,  my  dear  Gertrude,  this — 

This  like  to  a  murdering  piece  in  many  places 

Give  me  superfluous  death. 

[Exeunt.  ] 

LAERTES  :  O  treble  woe, 

Fall  ten  times  double  on  that  cursed  head 
Whose  wicked  deed  deprived  thee  of 
Thy  most  ingenious  sense.     Let  me  but  see  him  reason  ! 
'Twould  warm  the  very  sickness  of  my  heart 
That  I  should  live,  and  tell  him  to  his  teeth 
Thus  dids't  thou  !     O  my  poor  undone  Ophelia  ! 
Enter  HAMLET  p.s. 

HAMLET  :  What  is  he,  whose  griefs 

Bear  such  an  emphasis  ?     Whose  phrase  of  sorrow 
Conjures  the  wand'ring  stars,  and  makes  them  stand 
Like  wonder-wounded  hearers  ?     This  is  I , 
Hamlet  the  Dane ! 

LAERTES  :  Perdition  catch  thy  soul.    (Laying  his  hand  upon  his  swird.) 

KING  :   Keep  them  asunder. 

HAM.  :  Why  I  will  fight  with  him  upon  this  theme 
Until  my  eyelids  will  no  longer  wag. 

QUEEN  :  O,  my  son  !  what  theme  ? 

HAM.  :  I  loved  Ophelia  ;  forty  thousand  brothers 
Could  not  with  all  their  quantity  of  love 
Make  up  my  sum.     What  wilt  thou  do  for  her  ? 

KING  :  O,  he  is  mad,  Laertes. 

HAM.  :  Come,  show  1112  what  thou'lt  do  for  her  ! 

Wilt  weep  ?  wilt  fight  ?  wilt  fast  ?  wilt  tear  thyself  ? 
With  drink  up  Eisel  ?     Eat  a  crocodile  ? 
I'll  do't — and  more — nay,  and  you'll  mouth  it,  sir, 
I'll  rant  as  well  as  thou. 


256  THE  THEATRE.  [MAY  i,  issc. 

QUEEN  :  O  Hamlet !  Hamlet  ! 

For  love  of  heav'n  forbear  him.     (To  Laertes.) 
KING  :  We  will  not  bear  this  insult  to  our  presence. 

Hamlet,  I  did  command  you  hence  to  England. 

Affection  hitherto  has  curb'd  my  power  ; 

But  you  have  trampled  on  Allegiance, 

And  now  shall  feel  my  wrath.     Guards  ! 
HAM.  :  First  feel  mine —         (Stabs  him.) 

There,  thou  incestuous,  murderous,  damned  Dane  ! 

There's  for  thy  treachery,  lust,  and  usurpation  ! 

(King  falls  and  dies.) 
QUEEN  :  Mercy,  mercy,  heav'n !  Save  me  from  my  son  ! 

(She  runs  out,  o.p.) 
LAER.  :  What  treason  ho  !     Thus,  then,  do  I  revenge  (draws) 

My  father,  sister,  and  my  King. 

(They  fight.    Hamlet  is  wounded  by  Laevtes,  and  falls.) 
HOR.  :  And  I  my  Prince  and  friend.     (Draws.) 
HAM.  :  Hold,  good  Horatio,  'tis  the  hand  of  heaven. 

Administered  by  him  this  precious  balm 

For  all  my  wounds. 

Enter  MESSENGER. 

Speak,  speak !    What  of  my  mother  ? 
MESSENGER  :  Struck  with  the  horror  of  the  scene,  she  fled  ; 

But  ere  she  reach'd  her  chamber  door  she  fell 

Entranc'd  and  motionless,  unable  to  sustain  the  load 

Of  agony  and  sorrow. 
HAM.  :  O  my  Horatio  !  watch  the  wretched  Queen. 

If  from  this  trance  she  wakes,  O  may  she  breath 

An  hour  of  penitence  ere  madness  ends  her. 

Exchange  forgiveness  with  me,  brave  Laertes. 

O  may  thy  father's  death  come  not  on  me, 

Nor  mine  on  thee. 

LAERTES  :  Heav'n  make  thee  free  of  it. 
HAMLET  :  I  die,  I  die,  Horatio  !     Come  thou  near  (to  Laertes) 

Take  this  hand  from  me.     Unite  your  virtues 

(Joins  Horatio's  hand  to  Laertes\) 

To  calm  this  troubled  land.     I  can  no  more— 

Nor  have  I  more  to  ask — but  mercy,  heav'n  ! 

(Dies.) 
HOR.  :  Now  cracks  a  noble  heart.     Good  night,  sweet  Prince, 

And  flights  of  angels  sing  thee  to  thy  rest. 

Take  up  the  bodies  ;  such  a  sight  as  this 

Becomes  the  field,  but  here  shows  much  amiss. 

FINIS. 

This  precious  "  Hamlet,  with  Alterations  "  was  received,  Mr. 
Adolphus  tells  us,  but  flatly.  Garrick,  however,  believed  that  the 
alterations  were  well  received ;  while  Mr.  Victor  declared  that  "they 
were  far  from  being  universally  liked."  However,  the  fact  remains 
that  the  mangled  version  was  played  for  about  ten  years.  It  was 
reserved  for  the  management  of  Sheridan  to  return  to  the  old 
version  which  had  been  so  scurvily  treated. 


MAY  i.  1886.1  FAREWELL     TO    LISZT.  257 


Farewell    to     Liszt. 

THE  time,  alas !  has  conic  to  bid  farewell 
To  this  our  Master,  who — though  brief  the  space 
Of  his  abiding  in  our  English  land — 
Has  won  a  place  of  vantage  in  our  hearts, 
And,  should  we  ne'er  set  eyes  on  him  again, 
Will  live  in  our  remembrance  evermore. 
The  stately  form,  the  reverend  white  hair, 
The  captivating  smile,  the  radiant  look 
Informed  by  genius — sparkling  and  yet  soft, 
Lustrous  with  inner  light  of  kindliness, 
Will  linger  with  us  when  he  shall  be  gone  ; 
And  those  to  whom  his  gifts  have  been  reveafed, 
Who  round  the  charmed  clavichord  have  sate 
When  Francis  Liszt  has  made  it  live  and  breathe, 
And  laugh  and  weep,  and  whisper  words  of  love, 
Tune  gipsy  dances  on  the  Puszta  wild, 
Wail  out  the  mournful  numbers  of  a  dirge, 
Or  chant  the  fighting  Magyar's  battle-song, 
Will  often  fancy  that  they  see  again 
Tone-pictures  fashioned  by  the  Master's  hands. 

Those  slender  hands  that  conjure  from  the  keys 
Poems  of  sound  and  spell-fraught  phantasies, 
Have  scattered  boundless  bounties  to  the  poor, 
Have  worked  their  magic  on  behalf  of  Art, 
Have  toiled  to  honour  Masters  of  the  Past, 
To  foster  young  ambition,  and  assuage 
The  bitterness  of  many  an  humble  woe. 

Let  us,  who  love  the  artist,  ne'er  forget 
The  reverence  we  owe  unto  the  man 
Whose  grandly  reckless  generosity 
Set  up  great  Beethoven  in  bronze  at  Bonn, 
WThen  forty  millions  of  Germania's  sons 
Were  asked  in  vain  to  pay  the  tribute  due. 
Teutonic  thrift  shrank  from  the  costly  charge  ; 
Not  so  the  noble  Magyar.     When  the  chief 
Of  Hungary's  Five  Rivers  burst  its  banks 


258  THE   THE  A  TRE.  [MAY  i,  1886- 

And  overflowed  the  streets  of  stately  Pesth, 
Bringing  swift  ruin  to  a  thousand  homes, 
\\'ho  poured  out  timely  aid  in  golden  streams 
And  stemmed  the  terrors  of  the  ruthless  flood  ? 

'Twas  Liszt !     His  splendid  gains  he  e'er  has  held 
In  trust  for  all  his  suff 'ring  fellow-men, 
No  matter  what  their  country,  creed,  or  race  ; 
And  that  which  he  had  earned  by  strenuous  toil, 
They  needing  help,  was  no  more  his,  but  theirs. 

Thus  has  he  lived  his  life  from  youth  to  age, 
And  now,  meseems,  around  his  silvered  locks 
Hovers  the  glimmer  of  a  halo,  shed 
By  countless  works  of  Charity  and  Love. 

Not  unrewarded  are  his  gracious  deeds  ; 

What  honours  and  distinctions  may  be  given 

By  mighty  Emperors  and  Kings,  are  his  ; 

The  proudest  Orders  claim  him  for  their  Knight, 

And  jewelled  stars  shine  brightly  on  his  breast. 

The  architects  of  history,  and  those 

Who  guide  the  thoughts  and  form  the  tastes  of  men, 

For  half  a  cycle  past  have  been  his  friends. 

!>ut  chief  of  his  rewards,  more  precious  far 

Than  Royal  favour  or  supreme  renown, 

Is  the  affection  of  the  thankful  poor, 

Who  summon  down  GOD'S  blessings  on  his  head, 

As  we  do  now,  whilst  bidding  him  adieu, 

In  words  all  insufficient  to  express 

The  love  and  veneration  that  we  feel. 

Great  artist !  true  philanthropist !  dear  friend  ! 

Our  hearts  go  with  thee.     Francis  Liszt,  farewell ! 

WM.  BEATTY-KINGSTOX 


" 


MAY  i,  iSS6.]  OUR  MUSICAL-BOX.  259 


©ut 


ON  the  third  of  last  month  Franz  Liszt,  the  most  eminent  and 
distinguished  of  living  musicians,  and  the  greatest  pianist  whom 
the  world  has  ever  known,  arrived  in  this  country,  which  he  had  not 
visited  since  the  year  1841,  his  reception  at  the  hands  of  the  London 
musical  public  forty- five  years  ago  not  having  been  such  as  to  encourage 
him  to  recross  the  Channel  until  the  other  day.  It  has  been  difficult  for 
Liszt  to  surmount  the  disfavour  with  which  his  former  experiences  of 
English  prejudices  and  narrow-mindedness  had  caused  him  to  regard 
perfidious  Albion  ;  the  amazing  development  of  musical  taste  and  culture 
that  has  accrued  in  these  islands  during  the  Victorian  period  has  not 
come  under  his  personal  cognisance,  and,  until  very  lately,  he  has  had  no 
opportunity  of  observing  any  practical  detail  of  the  surprising  progress 
achieved  in  every  executant  branch  of  the  musical  art,  in  composition, 
and  in  intelligent  rcceptiveness  by  the  general  public  of  new  methods, 
which  are  no  longer  denounced  and  hounded  down  merely  because  of 
their  novelty — as  was  the  case  in  times  within  the  memory  of  middle- 
aged  English  musicians — but  are  received  with  courtesy,  studied  with 
interest,  and  keenly  appreciated,  if  intrinsically  meritorious.  The  dead 
set  made  at  the  late  Richard  Wagner's  works  by  influential  English 
musical  critics  when  those  works  were  first  introduced  to  the  notice  of 
London  audiences,  and  the  cold  attitude  maintained  for  some  years  by 
these  latter  towards  compositions  which  Liszt  regarded  as  the  noblest 
inspirations  of  modern  genius,  strengthened  his  unfavourable  impressions 
of  the  British  nation,  as  far  as  its  musicality  was  concerned,  and 
confirmed  his  reluctance  to  visit  these  shores.  Liszt  entertained  for 
Wagner  a  no  less  fervent  worship  than  that  of  which  he  himself  has  been 
the  object  in  Germany  throughout  the  past  quarter  of  a  century  ;  and  the 
hesitancy  displayed  by  France  and  England  alike  in  recognising  the 
surpassing  splendour  and  force  of  the  Saxon  master's  compositions  is 
accountable  in  great  measure  for  the  disinclination  to  return  to  Paris  and 
London  that  has  been  so  long  and  persistently  manifested  by  Wagner's 
venerable  father-in-law.  That  disinclination  has,  however,  at  length 
been  overcome  by  the  entreaties  of  old  friends  and  former  pupils  ;  and 
the  Canon  of  Albano  has  certainly  had  no  reason  to  complain  of  any  lack 
of  enthusiasm  in  connection  with  his  public  and  private  receptions  on  the 
banks  of  Seine  or  Thames.  Here,  as  in  Paris,  all  the  most  eminent 
musicians  of  the  day  have  unanimously  paid  him  ample  tribute  of  respect 
and  admiration  ;  their  example  has  been  followed  by  the  leading  repre- 


260  THE  THEATRE.  [MAY  i,  isso. 

sentatives  of  literature  and  the  plastic  arts  ;  British  Royalty  has  displayed 
the  liveliest  interest  in  his  illustrious  personality  and  in  the  festal  perfor- 
mances given  in  his  honour ;  the  concert-rooms  in  which  he  has  appeared, 
the  saloons  honoured  by  his  presence  during  his  brief  stay  here,  have 
been  thronged  by  the  elect  of  English  society.  The  efficiency  with  which 
his  works  have  been  rendered  in  this  metropolis  has,  I  rejoice  to  say, 
considerably  modified  the  views  he  is  known  to  have  entertained  with 
respect,  at  least,  to  our  executant  capacities  in  the  musical  line  ;  and  it  is 
no  small  satisfaction  to  English  music-lovers  as  well  as  virtuosi  to  know 
that  Franz  Liszt  has  quitted  this  country  strong  in  the  newly-acquired 
conviction  that  its  inhabitants  may  justly  look  forward  to  a  brilliant  future 
as  a  musical  nation. 


From  Paris  to  London  Liszt  was  accompanied  by  Mdme.  Munkacsy — 
the  wife  of  the  eminent  Hungarian  genre-painter,  who  executed  a  fine 
portrait  of  the  Master  during  the  latter' s  brief  sojourn  in  the  French 
capital — as  well  as  by  a  young  English  lady  well-known  in  London 
musical  circles  ;  by  his  latest  elcve  de  choix,  Herr  Stavenhagen,  a  pianist  of 
musical  promise  ;  and  by  Mr.  Max  Lindlar,  a  member  of  the  great  Bech- 
stein  firm  of  piano-forte  makers.  At  Calais  the  Canon  was  met  by  Mr. 
Alfred  Littleton  and  Mr.  Mackenzie,  the  genial  composer  of  "  Colomba," 
and  at  Dover  by  Mr.  Walter  Bache,  Herr  Emil  Leonhard  Bach,  and  the 
wife  of  the  present  writer.  He  bore  the  fatigues  of  the  nine  hours' 
journey  by  rail  and  boat  extremely  well,  despite  his  great  age,  and 
exhibited  no  sign  of  lassitude  on  his  arrival  at  Penge  Station,  where 
arrangements  had  been  made  with  the  railway  company  to  stop  the  Dover 
express  for  his  special  convenience,  Mr.  Littleton's  residence  (to  which 
Liszt  had  been  invited)  being  situate  at  Sydenham.  A  strong  body  of 
Hungarians  awaited  him  at  the  station  with  floral  tributes,  shouts  of 
*'  Eljen  !  "  and  oratorical  greetings.  His  host  had  assembled  between 
two  and  three  hundred  representatives  of  London  artistic  and  literary 
society  to  bid  the  great  musician  welcome  to  our  metropolis,  and  in  the 
course  of  the  evening  an  interesting  selection  of  his  vocal  and  instru- 
mental works  was  ably  performed  by  English  executants.  To  the  deep 
disappointment  of  all  present,  the  Canon  did  not  play ;  indeed,  the 
request  that  he  should  do  so  was  not  urged  upon  him,  in  consideration  of 
the  long  da/s  travelling  he  had  undergone.  To  be  the  hero  of  a 
numerously  attended  social  entertainment  is,  moreover,  a  trying  and 
exhausting  function  for  one  who  was  born  in  the  great  comet-year. 
During  the  Westwood  House  reception  Liszt  was  on  his  feet,  exchanging 
salutations  and  conventionalities  with  hundreds  of  his  admirers,  for  the  best 
part  of  two  hours — in  a  word,  passing  through  a  social  ordeal  that  might 
well  have  worn  out  many  a  man  much  younger  than  himself.  At  1 1  p.m. 
he  retired,  and  Mr.  Littleton's  guests  addressed  themselves  to  the  formid- 
able enterprise  of  getting  back  to  town  as  best  they  might. 


On  Monday  afternoon,  April  5,  a  grand  rehearsal  of  the  oratorio   "  St. 
Elizabeth"  took  place  at  the  St.  James's  Hall,  under  the  direction  of  Mr. 


MAY  i,  1886.]  OUR    MUSICAL-BOX.  261 

A.  C.  Mackenzie,  and  \vas  attended  by  an  audience  comprising  well-nigh 
every  notoriety  of  musical  London.  Dr.  Liszt  was  present  throughout 
the  performance,  which  appeared  to  give  him  great  satisfaction  on  the 
whole,  although  he  more  than  once  offered  suggestions  respecting  the 
tempi,  &c.,  to  the  gifted  conductor  in  the  course  of  the  second  and  third 
parts  of  the  work.  Madame  Albani  sang  the  title  role  so  admirably  as  to 
elicit  repeated  compliments  and  congratulations  from  the  venerable 
composer.  Great  praise  was  also  deservedly  bestowed  upon  Mr.  Arm- 
bruster's  clever  pupil,  Miss  Cramer,  who  sustained  the  somewhat 
ungrateful  part  of  the  Landgravine  Sophie  with  remarkable  verve  and 
efficiency.  On  the  following  evening  the  oratorio  was  given  in  the 
presence  of  the  most  numerous  gathering  ever  theretofore  assembled 
within  the  precincts  of  St.  James's  Hall ;  tout  Londres,  in  fact,  the  Prince 
and  Princess  of  Wales,  Duchess  of  Edinburgh,  and  Marchioness  of 
Lome  occupying  chairs  in  front  of  the  sofa  stalls.  During  the  "wait" 
between  the  first  and  second  parts  His  Royal  Highness  sought  Dr.  Liszt 
in  the  artists'  room,  and  conducted  him  thence  into  the  body  of  the  hall, 
where  he  presented  him  to  the  Princesses.  Seldom  has  such  demonstra- 
tive excitement  been  witnessed  in  a  London  concert-room  as  that 
displayed  on  the  occasion  in  question.  Ladies  of  fashion  stood  upon 
benches  and  chairs  in  order  to  obtain  a  good  view  of  the  aged  Master, 
whose  every  movement  was  the  signal  for  outburst  of  enthusiastic  accla- 
mation. Liszt  himself  was  far  more  fervently  applauded  than  was  his 
music,  which,  in  comparison  with  his  august  and  impressive  person, 
proved  but  a  secondary  attraction.  There  are  great  beauties  in  the 
orchestral  score  of  "  St.  Elizabeth,"  which,  as  a  practical  illustration  of 
Liszt's  theory  and  method  of  composition,  leaves  nothing  to  be  desired ;  but, 
as  Rossini  is  reported  to  have  said  of  "  Tannhaeuser,"  il  y-a  des  longueurs, 
and  the  lack  of  organic  melody  that  characterises  its  vocal  parts  is  not 
calculated  to  obtain  for  it  a  high  place  in  the  favour  of  the  English 
musical  public.  "  St.  Elizabeth"  is  a  chefd'ccuvre  of  constructive  ingenuity 
— a  marvel  of  contrapuntal  and  instrumental  contrivance  ;  but  these  are 
not  the  specialities  which  confer  popularity  upon  any  musical  work  in  this 
country,  where  tunefulness  still  takes  the  pas  of  mathematical  demonstra- 
tion, in  connection  with  vocal  and  instrumental  performances.  The  chief 
charm  of  "  St.  Elizabeth"  is  its  masterly  orchestration,  in  which  respect 
it  is  entitled  to  rank  side  by  side  with  Wagner's  most  elaborate  musical 
narratives ;  but  that  charm  appeals  to  the  sympathies  of  the  few,  not  of 
the  many,  and  cannot,  indeed,  be  fully  appreciated  by  any  save  those  who 
are  initiated  in  the  purely  instrumental  secrets  by  which  original  effects 
and  novel  contrasts  of  tone-colours  are  achieved.  That  this  important 
M-ork  would  prove  "  caviare  to  the  million  "  was  the  opinion  I  formed  with 
respect  to  it  when  I  first  heard  it  on  the  occasion  of  its  initial  production 
in  the  Redouten-Saal  at  Vienna  on  April  4,  1 869 ;  and  its  recent  repetitions 
have  fully  confirmed  me  in  that  view. 


A  few  hours  before  the  great  event  in  St.  James's   Hall,  Canon  Liszt 
paid  a  visit  to  the  Royal  Academy  of  Music,  where  the  students  regaled. 


262  THE    THEATRE. 


[MAY  i, 


him  with  some  creditable  renderings  of  selections  from  his  own  works  as 
well  as  of  compositions  by  our  gifted  countrymen  Sterndale  Bennett, 
George  Macfarren,  and  A.  C.  Mackenzie.  Under  the  leadership  of  that 
consummate  musician,  William  Shakespeare,  who  has  wrought  such 
wonders  during  his  too-brief  reign  in  Tenterden  Street,  the  academic 
alumni  proved  themselves  worthy  of  playing  before  the  greatest  orchestral 
conductor  of  the  age,  and  wrere  rewarded  for  their  labour  of  love  by  hearin"- 
Liszt  play,  in  all  probability  for  the  first  and  last  time  in  their  lives.  To 
the  pianists  of  the  future,  who  muster  in  great  strength  at  our  Conserva- 
toire, the  Master's  magical  touch  and  infinite  variety  of  tone-production 
were  at  once  revelations  and  lessons  never  to  be  forgotten,  but  rather  to 
be  taken  to  heart  and  "  thought  out  "  with  steadfast  perseverance  for  many 
a  year  to  come.  For  Liszt,  although  himself  prone  to  allege  that  his 
executant  powers  are  failing  him,  still  retains  that  supreme  command  of 
the  pianoforte's  resources  in  which  he  has  known  no  rival  during  the  past 
sixty  years.  Under  his  fingers  the  key  board  sings  with  a  passion  and 
tenderness  that  no  other  human  hand  is  capable  of  eliciting  from  it. 
The  Academy  pupils  are  to  be  congratulated  upon  having  heard  the 
utmost  thai  can  be  done  to  vitalise  an  ingenious  piece  of  mechanism  and 
give  it  a  soul,  as  well  as  a  voice. 


On  the  yth  ult.,  in  obedience  to  Her  Majesty's  commands,  Dr.  Liszt 
went  down  lo  Windsor  and  played  to  the  Queen,  to  whom,  as   I    under- 
stand, his  inimitable  performance  gave  infinite  pleasure.     It  must  have 
recalled  sweet  and  sorrowful  memories  to  the  august  lady,  who,  when  she 
last  heard  him  play  in  England,  was  a  happy  young  wife  and  mother,  just 
entering  upon  her  twenty-second  year.     Mr.  Walter  Bache's  reception  at 
the  Grosvenor  Gallery  in  honour  of  Dr.  Liszt  came  off  on  the  following 
evening,  and  was  attended  by  every  English  musician  of  note  residing  in 
this  metropolis,  as  well  by  men  of  light  and  leading  in  all  branches  of 
literature  and  the  arts.     It  was,  indeed,  an  exhaustive  gathering  of  dis- 
tinguished composers  and  executants,  such  as  can  have  left  no  doubt  in 
Liszt's  mind  as  to  the  genuine  and  robust  musicality  of  the  British  nation. 
Attired  in  a  plain  black  cassock,  his  thick  white  locks  falling  heavily  on 
his  shoulders,  and  his  fine  face  beaming  with  smiles,  the  venerable  Canon 
entered  the  gallery  leaning  on  his  host's  arm,  and  escorted  by  a  strong 
body-guard  of  personal  friends.     As  he  advanced  to  the  place  assigned 
to  him  in  front  of  the  platform  at  the  further  end  of  the  principal  salon, 
plaudits  greeted  him  on  every  side  ;  and  when  he  had  taken  his  seat  the 
musical  entertainment,  consisting  exclusively  of  selections  from  his  works, 
forthwith    commenced.      It  consisted  of  an  "Angelus"   for  strings,    a 
"Chorus  of  Angels"  for  female  voices,  a  pianoforte  arrangement  of  the 
"' Benediction  de  Dieu,"  ably  rendered  by  Mr.  Bache,  and   three   songs 
from  Schiller's  "Tell,"  which    Mr.    Winch    sang   in   his  best   manner. 
.Shortly  after  the  programme  of  the  evening  had  come  to  a  close,   Dr. 
Liszt,  in  compliance  with  the  manifest  wish  of  everybody  present,  sat 
•down  to  the  piano,  and  played — as  he  alone  of  living  men   can  play — a 
romance  by  Chopin,  and  his  own  delicate  "  Chanson  d' Amour."     On  the 


MAY  i,  i886.]  OUR    MUSlCALrBOX.  263 

following  evening  he  was  present  at  a  concert — the  programme  of  which 
consisted  exclusively  of  selections  from  his  miscellaneous  works— givm 
by  Herr  L.  Emil  Bach  at  the  St.  James's  Hall,  and  was  again  the  recipient, 
of  an  extraordinary  public  ovation.  Every  executant  connected  with  this 
excellent  entertainment  fulfilled  his  or  her  functions  in  a  manner  deserv- 
ing the  highest  praise.  Herr  Bach  played  the  solo  part  of  the  gre;it  E  11. it 
concerto  with  fine  spirit  and  expression,  displaying  a  perfect  mastery  of 
its  formidable  technical  difficulties.  Liszt's  beautiful  setting  of  Heine'* 
"  Lorely"  found  a  most  sympathetic  interpreter  in  Miss  Liza  Lehmann, 
and  the  gifted  Henschels  sang  several  of  his  charming  songs  with  tin- 
high  intelligence  and  artistic  finish  that  characterise  all  their  vocal  per- 
formances. Signor  Alberto  Randegger  had  gathered  together  a  strong 
body  of  elect,  instrumentalists,  who,  under  his  leadership,  gave  thoroughly 
efficient  renderings  of  the  stately  march  from  "  Christus,"  the  symphonic 
poem  "  Orpheus,"  and  the  accompaniments  to  the  "  Rhapsodic  Hon- 
groise,"  and  "  Polonaise,"  brilliantly  played  by  the  concert-giver.  Later 
on,  Dr.  Liszt  went  "over  the  way  "  to  listen  to  some  amateur  orchestral - 
playing,  of  which  he  expressed  his  approval ;  indeed,  he  has  more  than 
once  observed  to  me  that  it  is  in  this  particular  direction  that  our  musical 
advancement  within  the  last  half  century  has  most  vividly  impressed  him. 
"When  I  first  came  to  this  country,"  he  said  to  me  one  day,  "you  Eng- 
lish were  already  justly  celebrated  for  the  fine  qualities  of  your  choral 
singing.  It  was  your  musical  speciality.  Your  choirs  were  superior  to 
those  of  the  Continent  in  the  quality  of  their  voices,  and  the  purity  of 
their  intonation.  They  are  so  still.  But  your  orchestras  were  lacking  in 
more  than  one  essential  virtue,  which  they  have  acquired  since  that  time, 
and,  as  far  as  the  executant  element  was  concerned,  you  had  nothing  to 
be  proud  of  outside  strictly  professional  limits.  That  is  all  changed  now. 
Your  orchestras  have  delighted  me,  and  your  amateurs  have  surprised  nu- 
—I  need  not  say,  most  agreeably.  Englishmen  seem  to  me  to  have 
gained  more,  in  the  way  of  sheer  musicality,  than  any  other  people  during 
the  past  forty  or  fifty  years." 


On  Saturday,  April  10,  the  venerable  Canon  attended  another  *'  Liszt 
Concert"  at  the  Crystal  Palace  ;  he  was  entertained  in  the  evening  by 
the  German  Club  in  Mortimer  Street,  of  which  he  had  been  elected  an 
honorary  member,  and  gracefully  claimed  the  privilege,  "  as  the  youngest 
of  the  affiliated,"  to  contribute  his  item  to  the  programme.  The  follow- 
ing afternoon  I  had  the  great  joy  of  receiving  him  in  my  house,  and  of 
hearing  him  extemporise  superbly  upon  the  theme  of  one  of  my 
daughter's  songs.  That  evening  he  dined  en  famille  with  the  Prince  and 
Princess  of  Wales.  On  Monday  Dr.  Duka,  the  Prceses  of  the  Hungarian 
colony  in  London,  held  a  reception,  which  was  attended  by  some  six 
hundred  persons,  in  his  honour,  and  he  subsequently  attended  tin- 
Popular  Concert  at  St.  James's  Hall.  And  so  it  went  on  throughout  the 
week.  On  Wednesday  evening  he  was  Mr.  Henry  Irving's  guest  at  the 
Lyceum,  where,  after  watching  with  lively  interest  a  capital  performance 
of  "Faust,"  he  supped  with  Mephistopheles  and  Gretchen  in  the  <»Kl 


264  THE    THEATRE.  [MAY  ,,  iS8f, 


Beefsteak  room.  It  was  a  merry  party,  7m«^  obliviscan  by  any  of  those 
bidden  by  the  Denying  Spirit  to  meet  the  Master.  I  am  proud  to  record 
the  fact  that  I  and  mine  were  among  the  fortunate  ones,  whose  number 
included  Professor  Max  Miiller,  Ljrd  and  Lady  Wharncliffe,  Madame 
Munkacsy,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Comyns  Carr,  Dr.  Morell  Mackenzie,  Miss 
Nelia  Casella,  Mr.  Bram  Stoker,  Mr.  Harry  Loveday,  and  all  the 
members  of  Dr.  Liszt's  suite.  The  room  in  which  so  many  memorable 
symposia  had  been  held  was  entirely  redecorated  for  the  occasion  ;  the 
supper-table,  viewed  from  the  doorway  of  the  Lyceum  armoury,  bore  the 
aspect  of  a  huge  bed  of  daffodils,  adorned  here  and  there  with  sheeny 
silver  and  sparkling  crystal.  To  see  Liszt  and  Irving  sitting  opposite  to 
one  another,  scanning  each  other's  lineaments  with  undisguised  interest, 
was  indeed  a  memorable  sight.  There  are  few  faces  in  the  world  display- 
ing such  fascinating  combinations  of  power  and  sweetness  as  these  two. 
The  great  pianist  and  the  great  actor,  from  the  first  moment  of  their 
meeting,  were  keenly  sympathetic  to  one  another.  Liszt  told  me  that 
Irving  perfectly  realised  his  ideal  of  Goethe's  Mephisto  ;  that  he  had 
seen  every  German  actor  of  renown  who  had  impersonated  the  part  for 
the  last  sixty  years,  not  one  of  whom  equalled  Irving  in  conception  or 
interpretation  of  the  "  business"  incumbent  on  a  human  representative 
of  the  Tempting  Fiend  ;  that  no  attempt  had  ever  been  made  in  the 
Fatherland,  except  at  Hanover,  to  mount  and  play  the  Brocken  scene 
with  anything  like  the  weird  grandeur  and  artistic  finish  characterising 
the  Lyceum  production.  Irving,  towards  the  close  of  the  feast,  addressed 
us  with  touching  eloquence  upon  the  subject  of  his  venerable  guest, 
"  whose  genius  commanded  our  reverent  admiration,  whilst  his  loving- 
kindness  and  tender  humanity  had  won  our  hearts."  "  He  is  leaving  us," 
Irving  continued,  "carrying  with  him  to  other  lands  our  love,  as  well  as 
our  respect  ;  for  this  great  and  good  man,  above  all  else,  has  loved  his 
fellow-men,  and  lavishly  applied  the  superb  gifts  with  which  God  has 
endowed  him  to  alleviating  human  suffering  and  allaying  human  distress. 
By  his  talents  he  has  added  ineffable  pleasures  to  the  life-experiences  of 
civilised  mankind  ;  by  his  inexhaustible  charity  he  has  shed  light  upon 
the  darkness  of  numberless  sorrowful  existences.  Blessings  follow  him 
whithersoever  he  may  go  ;  the  blessings  of  the  poor,  which  shall  avail. 
Let  us  bid  him  God  speed,  and  tell  him  that  we  shall  never  forget  the 
joy  his  presence  has  been  to  us."  That  Irving's  guests  responded 
fervently  to  this  moving  appeal  goes  without  saying.  The  Master  rose, 
and  eagerly  returned  our  greetings  ;  but  emotion  prevented  him  from 
replying  to  his  host  in  words,  and  he  sat  down  again  amidst  a  poly- 
glotic  clamour  of  "Hurrah  !  "  "  Eljen  !  "  "  Hoch  soil  der  Meister  leben  !  " 
and  ''  Vive  le  grand  Maitre  !  "  At  about  one  a.m.  Liszt  retired,  but  the 
party  did  not  break  up  until  a  much  later  hour,  the  lingerers  being 
regaled  with  Herr  Stavenhagen's  fine  playing  of  several  works  by  the 
hero  of  the  evening,  who,  as  he  told  me  more  than  once,  had  enjoyed 
the  entertainment,  dramatic  and  social,  offered  to  him  "  with  no  less 
gratitude  than  gratification." 


MAY  i,  1886.]  OUR  MUSICAL-BOX.  265 

As  a  propagandist  of  the  Wagnerian  dogma,  and  an  exponent  of  the 
Wagnerian   poetica-dramatico-musical    theory,  Mr.   Carl  Armbruster  is 
specially  qualified  to  achieve  success.      His  lectures  are  terse,  lucid,  and 
to  the  point ;    his  delivery  is  unexceptionable  ;    and  the  instrumental  and 
vocal  illustrations  with  which  he  exemplifies  the  peculiarities  of  the  Saxon 
Master's  method  are  alike  well  chosen  and  admirably  executed.       I  was 
one  of   his  auditors  the  other  night  at  the  Birkbeck  Institute,  when  he 
discoursed    most    eloquently    and     entertainingly    upon     the     leading 
characteristics   of  Wagnerian  opera,   as  contrasted   with   those   of  the 
operatic  works  composed  by  Wagner's  predecessors  and  contemporaries  ; 
laying  stress    on  the   unity  of  purpose  and  freedom  from  the  restraints  of 
tradition  that  pervade  these  monumental  products  of  creative  genius.  That 
Wagner  aimed  at  achieving  an  artistic  trinity  in  unity,  by  making  the 
words,  music,  and  dramatic  action  of  his  operas  so  supremely  suitable  to 
one  another  that  they  became  practically  identical,  all  musicians  are  well 
aware ;    and  few  of  the  present  generation   will  deny  that,   in  a  great 
measure,  he  attained  his  object.       His  was  a  new  departure  in  operatic 
composition.     No  great  masters  before  him  had  constructed  the  plots,  or 
written  the  libretti  of  opera.      Mozart,  and  even  more  notoriously  Weber, 
had  set  worthless  "books  "  to  divine  music  ;    Bellini,  Donizetti,  Rossini, 
Verdi,  Meyerbeer,  had  all  been  dependent  for  the  texts  of  their  operas 
upon  literary  hacks,  more  or  less  liberally  endowed  with  a  mechanical 
aptitude  for  stringing  together  verses  that  would  scan,  and  that  were 
easily  to  be  fitted  to  musical  phrases.       As  Mr.  Armbruster  aptly  pointed 
out  to  his  audience,  none  of  the  incongruities  that  passed  current  with  the 
musical  public  when  Italian  opera  held  the  lyric  stage  throughout  Europe 
are  to  be  found  in  Wagner's  tone-dramas  ;  no  words  expressive  of  despair, 
carolled    in    waltz-time,    or  cheerful  sentiments  chanted  in  penitential 
strains.     If  the  motivi  depicting  rage  or  jealousy  lack  musical  beauty,  it 
is   because   rage  and  jealousy  are  ugly  passions,  that   cannot  be   fitly 
depicted  in  sound  by  sweet  melodies  and  pleasing  harmonies.     They  are 
elements,    however,    of  dramatic    story,    and    must    be    appropriately 
expressed  ;  hence  certain  Wagnerian  episodes,  like  thatofTelramund  and 
Elsa  in  the   second  act  of"  Lohengrin,"  which  may  distress  the  ears  of 
some,  but  are  satisfactory  to  the   intelligence  of  all.       As    the   German 
Chancellor   once  said  to  me: — "There  are  no    tunes    in  'Tristan  and 
Isolde  '  which  one  can  whistle  as  one  strolls  homewards  from  the  Opera 
House;"    but,  on  the  other  hand,  every  bar  of  that  colossal  work — 
admitted  by  Wagner  himself  to  be  the  most  complete  exponence  of  his 
theory  of  operatic  composition — musically  exemplifies,  or  endeavours  to 
exemplify,   the  text,    the   dramatic  situations,  and  the  phases  of  passion 
through  which  the  characters  of  the  play  are  passing.       To  revert  to  Mr. 
Armbruster's  lecture,  I  may  observe  that  it  was  listened  to  attentively  and 
gratefully  by  a  numerous  audience,  which,  like  myself,  was  very  favourably 
impressed  by  the  magnificent  voice  and  vigorous  dramatic  delivery  of  Miss 
Cramer,  a  young  German  soprano  singer  who  has  lately  made  her  debut  in 
London,  and  with  conspicuous  success.      Mr.  Hirwen  Jones  sang  several 
excerpts  from  the  roles  of  Lohengrin  and^Walther  with  excellent  taste  and 
effect. 

NEW   SERIES. — VOL.   VII.  U 


266  THE    THEATRE.  [MAY  i,  1886. 

Concerts  were  numerous,  and,  here  and  there,  interesting  during  the 
past  month.  Amongst  those  more  especially  worthy  of  retrospective 
mention  were  Mdlle.  de  Lido's  matinee,  at  i,  Onslow  Gardens,  on  the  i2th 
ult.,  at  which  the  gifted  beneficiaire  delighted  a  numerous  audience  (chiefly 
consisting  of  grandes  dames  de  par  le  monde)  by  several  displays  of  highly- 
finished  vocalisation,  whilst  her  accomplished  sister,  the  Countess 
Sadowska  de  Scharfenort,  won  abundant  plaudits  by  her  dramatic 
rendering  of  the  grand  scena  from  "  Une  Nuit  de  Cleopatre,"  and  by  the 
recitation,  no  less  forcible  than  pathetic,  of  a  poem  entituled  "  Three 
Mothers,"  originally  published  in  THE  THEATRE.  Miss  Amy  Sherwin 
and  Mr.  Arthur  Oswald,  with  their  spirited  and  musicianly  singing,  con- 
tributed materially  to  the  pleasure  afforded  by  an  exceptionally  meritorious- 
entertainment,  further  supported  by  those  accomplished  artistes  MM. 
Lasserre,  Buziau,  and  Coenen,  and  Mr.  Hirwen  Jones.  On  the  ijth  Mr. 
Isidore  de  Lara  gave  his  third  Spring  Recital  at  Stein  way  Hall,  which 
proved  too  small  to  contain  the  crowd  of  fashionable  persons  that  vainly 
endeavoured  to  find  sitting  and  standing  room  within  its  precincts.  The 
programme  was,  as  usual,  an  attractive  and  well  chosen  one,  including 
several  of  Mr.  De  Lara's  charming  songs,  a  new  ballad  by  Paolo  Tosii, 
hight  "Yesterday"  and  possessing  indefeasible  claims  to  popularity, 
Mrs.  Moncrieff  s  graceful  "  Serenade,"  a  leash  of  delightful  French 
chansons,  and  two  clever  recitations  by  Mrs.  and  Mr.  Barrymore.  The 
concert-giver  had  quite  surmounted  all  the  bronchial  troubles  to  which 
intemperate  March  had  subjected  him,  and  was  in  excellent  voice  ;  he 
sang  to  perfection,  and  was  inimitably  accompanied  in  several  of  the 
more  important  numbers  of  his  recital  by  Signor  Paolo  Tosti,  whose 
delicious  "  Aprile,"  by  the  way,  elicited  a  jstorm  of  applause  from  the 
extremely  sympathetic  audience. , 


Herr  Stavenhagen — speaking  of  whom,  Liszt  said  to  me  "  He  is  the 
best  pupil  I  have  taught  for  some  years  past,  and  will  presently  take  a 
distinguished  place  in  the  foremost  rank  of  masterly  pianists  " — gave  a 
P.F.  recital  at  Prince's  Hall  on  the  i6th  ult,  in  the  course  of  which  he 
played  nine  of  his  great  master's  compositions,  to  the  perfect  contentment 
of  a  numerous  and  musical  audience.  Dr.  Liszt  was  present.  In  my 
opinion  young  Stavenhagen  fully  justifies  the  praise  bestowed  upon  him. 
by  the  chief  authority  living,  as  far  as  pianism  is  concerned.  His 
execution  is  faultless,  and  he  teems  with  musical  intelligence  of  a  high 
order.  On  the  occasion  referred  to  he  had  the  advantage  of  playing  upon 
a  superb  instrument,  one  of  Bechstein's  chefs-d'auvres,  a  sister  piano  to  the 
one  placed  in  Dr.  Liszt's  study  at  Sydenham  for  his  especial  use  in  com- 
position. For  the  last  thirty  years,  indeed,  Liszt  has  maintained  his 
preference  for  the  Bechstein  pianoforte,  which  he  invariably  signalises  as 
"  perfect,  and  affording  the  virtuoso  the  amplest  opportunities  for 
displaying  his  own  powers  and  the  resources  of  clavichord — in  a  word, 
everything  to  praise  and  nothing  to  find  fault  with."  It  was  on  a  piano 
of  this  category  that  Stavenhagen  played  two  of  Liszt's  famous  studies 
after  Paganini,  and  his  noble  arrangement  of  the  Huguenots  with  a  skill 


MAY  i,  1886.]  OUR     MUSICAL-BOX.  267 

that  could  scarcely  be  surpassed.  On  the  igth  ult.  Prince's  Hall  was 
thronged  by  one  of  the  most  fashionable  audiences  ever  gathered  together 
within  its  walls.  The  occasion  was  Countess  Sadowska's  "  Farewell  to 
Liszt"  concert,  at  which  the  Master  made  his  last  public  appearance  in 
London  before  quitting  England,  and  the  programme  consisted  exclusively 
of  selections  from  his  earlier  vocal  and  instrumental  works.  Madame  de 
Sadowska,  who  was  efficiently  supported  by  her  sister,  Mdlle.  De  Lido,  Mr. 
Hirwen  Jones,  Mr.  Arthur  Oswald,  MM.Coenen,  Romili,  Buziau,  and  other 
well-known  executants,  read  a  valedictory  address  to  Liszt,  in  verse,  which 
will  be  found  in  another  portion  of  this  periodical.  Space  pressure  debars 
me  from  commenting  on  the  details  of  this  interesting  entertainment  ; 
suffice  it  to  say  that  some  of  its  numbers  were  ably  rendered,  and  that  it 
went  off  from  first  to  last  with  great  spirit  and  eclat.  The  reception 
accorded  to  Dr.  Liszt  by  all  present  was  no  less  enthusiastic  than  that 
which  greeted  him  at  the  "  St.  Elisabeth  "  rehearsal,  just  a  fortnight 
earlier,  and  will,  as  he  himself  observed,  be  gratefully  remembered  by 
him  to  the  end  of  his  days. 

Amongst  the  new  musical  publications  that  reached  me  last  month 
were  the  following  vocal  and  instrumental  pieces.      (Messrs.  Chappell 
and  Co.). — "  The  Sandman,"  a  really  charming  song  by  J.   L.  Molloy, 
who  has  set  Mr.  Weatherly's  sympathetic  words  with  kindred  tenderness 
and  grace.     Concert  singers  of  the  contralto  persuasion  should  add  "  The 
Sandman  "  to  their  stock  repertoire.      It  will  do   great  execution   in  the 
provinces.       To    Mr.    De    Lara's  latest  novelties,   "All   my  All"   and 
"  Marion,"  I  briefly  referred  when  they  were  still  in  MS.     They  are  both 
conceived  in  a   lighter,    livelier  vein   than  the  majority  of  this  genial 
composer's  songs.     "  All  my  All "  is  written  altogether  in  the  playful  and 
coquettish  spirit  of  May  Probyn's  delightful  words  ;    "Marion,"  to  judge 
by  her  dainty  setting,  must  be  an  uncommonly  attractive  person — I  should 
like  to  "  ride  in  a  brougham  "  with  her  myself.       See  Whyte    Melville's 
words.       "  One  or  Two, "  the  joint    production   of  Will  Carleton  and 
Frances  Allitsen,  does  not  impress  me  very  favourably.       The  words  are 
thin,  and  the  music  is  thinner.     Why  it  should  be  signed  by  the  person  to 
whom  it  is  dedicated  I  fail   to   understand.       A  "  Chanson   Russe,"  by 
Er  Sturmfels,  is  melodious,  showy,  and  easy  to  play — within  the  executive 
range  of  the  probationary  drawing-room  pianiste,  and  free  from  offence  to 
those  whom  politeness  compels  to  listen  to  her.     Not  so  a  P.F.  "  sketch  " 
called  "  On  the  Clyde,"  by  Wm.  Smallwood,  which  is  sheer  rubbish  ;  one 
marvels  to  see  the  name  of  a  first-class  publishing  firm  printed  on  its  title- 
page.     "  Night  and  Morn  "  (Bucalossi)  is  a  pretty  and  infectious  "  vocal 
waltz"  (!)  familiar  to  the  habitues  of  Drury  Lane,  and    "Cherry   Ripe" 

(Delbriick)  is  a  polka  comme  un  autre,  quite  good  enough  to  dance  to. 

(Boosey  and  Co.). — Mrs.  Lynedoch  Moncrieffs  new  song,  "  Oh ! 
Abyssinian  Tree,"  may  safely  be  pronounced  the  best  of  all  this  clever 
composer's  works  that  have  heretofore  appeared  in  type.  It  is  a  singularly 
happy  setting  of  Moore's  beautiful  words,  and,  intelligently  rendered  by 
any  possessor  of  a  rich  contralto  voice,  cannot  fail  to  gratify  a  musical 

U   2 


268 


THE     THEATRE. 


[MAY  i,  1886. 


audience  ;  being,  however,  perhaps'  a  thought  too  grave,  as  well  as  too 

good,  to  achieve  popularity. -(London  Music  Publishing  Company)* 

-^Mr.  Gerard  Cobb's  P.F.  suite  of  six  numbers,  like  all  this  composer's 
\rorks,  is  melodious,  thoughtful,  and  musicianly.  None  of  its  episodes 
presents  any  formidable  difficulty  of  technique  for  the  dilettante  to  grapple 
with  and  be  overcome  by  ;  they  are  all  pleasant  playing  for  well-trained 
fingers.  Of  some  vocal  and  instrumental  abominations  forwarded  to  me 
for  review  I  will  say  nothing.  May  their  composers  and  publishers  be 
forgiven  ! 

WM.  BEATTY-KINGSTON. 

-•H- *•?.-•- 


©ur 


"THE    SCHOOLMISTRESS." 

An  original  farce  in  three  acts,  by  A.  W.  PINERO. 
Produced  at  the  Court  Theatre,  on  Saturday,  March  27, 18S6. 


The  Hon.  Vere  Quec 
Rear-Admiral      Arc 
Rankling,  C.B. 
Lieut.  John  Mallory 
Mr.  Saunders  ... 
Mr.  Reginald  Paulov 
Mr.  Otto  Bernstein 
Tyler     
Goff      

kett  .. 
hibald 

er 

.    MR.  ARTHUR  CECIL. 

.    MR.  JOHN  CLAYTON. 
.     MR.  F.  KERR. 
MR.  EDWIN  VICTOR. 
MR.  H.  EVERSFIELD. 
MR.  CHEVALIER. 
.     MR.  W.  PHILLIPS. 
MR.  FRED  CAPE. 

Jaffray 
Mrs.  Rankling 
Miss  Dyott  
Dinah          
Gwendoline  Hawki 
Ermyntrude  Johnsc 
Peggy  Hesslerigge.. 
Jane  Chipman 

is 
n 

.     MR.  LUGO. 
Miss  EMILY  CROSS. 
MRS.  JOHN  WOOD.. 

MlSS  CODMORR. 
MISS  VlNEY. 

Miss  LA  COSTE. 

..      MlSS  NORRSYS. 

.    Miss  ROCHE. 

Mr.  Pinero  must  have  felt  that  he  had  handicapped  himself  very  severely 
by  writing  "  The  Magistrate,"  when  he  sat  down  to  plan  out  "The  School- 
mistress "  ;  and  it  says  much  for  his  skill  as  a  play-wright  that  he  has 
been  able  to  follow  a  triumph  by  a  success.  At  the  same  time,  as  he 
himself  would  probably  be  ready  to  admit,  the  latter  is  by  no  means  so 
good  a  piece  as  the  former,  the  construction  is  distinctly  weaker,  and  the 
improbabilities  are  glaring  even  for  farce.  The  beauty  of  "The  Magis- 
trate "  was  the  "  sweet  reasonableness  "  of  the  comic  situations,  which  all 
might  have  happened ;  but  in  this  play,  if  you  once  ask  yourself  whether 
what  occurs  could  ever  have  been  within  the  bounds  of  possibility  you  are 
lost.  Mr.  Pinero  has  gone  as  far  as  any  farce-writer  can  in  the  way  of 
"  high-jinks,"  but,  at  the  same  time,  one  would  advise  no  less-experienced 
author  to  imitate  such  a  venturesome  experiment ;  or,  at  all  events,  not 
until  he  can  write  such  dialogue  as  is  here  given  us.  For  the  dramatist, 
conscious  it  may  be  of  the  weakness  and  improbability  of  his  fable,  has 
embroidered  on  it  such  a  wealth  of  witticisms  as  has  rarely  been  found  in 
one  play.  More  genuinely  comic  dialogue  has  scarcely  been  heard  on 
the  stage,  and  there  are  "  wheezes  "  enough,  in  theatrical  parlance,  to 
make  the  fortune  of  a  couple  of  pieces.  The  best  jokes,  it  must  be  added, 
are  a  good  deal  in  the  style  of  Mr.  Gilbert,  but  Mr.  Pinero  has  proved 
himself  an  apt  scholar,  and  never  has  more  continuous  laughter  been 
heard  throughout  the  whole  of  a  piece,  nor  been  so  thoroughly  well 
deserved. 

A  brief  outline  of  the  story  will  suffice,  for  it  is  n6t  the  plot  that  makes 


MAY  i,  1886.]  OUR  PLA  Y-BOX.  269 

the  success  of  "The  Schoolmistress."  Miss  Dyottis  the  head  of  a  select 
ladies'  school,  who  has  somewhat  rashly  married  an  impecunious  "swelU' 
the  Hon.  Vere  Queckett,  and  finds  him  rather  an  expensive  luxury.  In 
order  to  supply  him  with  the  little  enjoyments  he  needs,  this  lady  takes  an 
engagement  as  prima  donna  in  a  comic  opera  during  the  Christmas 
holidays,  and,  oddly  enough,  leaves  Queckett  to  keep  house  for  the  few 
boarders  who  remain  during  the  holidays.  Then  several  remarkable  in- 
cidents occur  with  truly  startling  rapidity.  First,  Mr.  Queckett  determines 
to  give  a  bachelor  party  at  the  house,  and  secondly,  that  resolve  being 
detected  by  a  governess-pupil  and  the  other  young  ladies,  who  are  also 
going  to  give  a  party,  he  is  made  to  preside  over  a  combined  feast.  Nor 
is  this  all  Mr.  Pinerohas  in  store  for  us.  To  this  extraordinary  banquet 
come  not  only  the  young  husband  of  a  girlish  bride,  who  is  still  a  pupil 
at  the  school,  but  positively  also  her  father,  Admiral  Rankling,  a  friend  of 
Queckett's,  who  has  been  away  for  some  years  at  sea,  and  does  not  recog- 
nise his  daughter,  while  he  is  the  object  of  frantic  jealousy  on  the  part  of 
her  husband.  Of  the  fast  and  furious  fun  of  this  veritably  "mad  tea- 
party,"  it  is  needless  to  speak,  though  it  includes  a  very  humorous  oration 
by  the  admiral,  and  a  riotous  dance ;  but  it  is  summarily  stopped  by  an 
alarm  of  fire,  and  all  the  characters  save  Queckett  escape  by  the  window, 
aided  by  comic  firemen,  just  as  Miss  Dyott,  who  has  been  summoned 
from  the  theatre,  appears  upon  the  scene  in  full  stage  costume.  It  must 
be  said  that  the  conclusion  of  this  second  act  is  the  least  satisfactory  part 
of  the  clever  piece,  and  so  ingenious  a  dramatist  as  Mr.  Pinero  could 
surely  have  brought  his  characters  together  at  the  Admiral's,  as  he  does 
in  the  next  act,  without  having  recourse  to  so  wild  and  pantomimic  an 
expedient.  In  the  last  act  Mr.  Pinero,  while  gathering  up  the  threads  of 
his  plot,  continues  to  provide  ample  amusement  for  the  audience.  We  see 
the  Admiral's  leonine,  or,  one  should  rather  in  the  case  of  a  sailor  say, 
cetacean,  rage  against  Queckett  for  deceiving  him,  and  we  roar  sympa- 
thetically with  the  latter  when  he  avows  his  intention  of  commencing  a 
mortal  combat  with  the  Admiral  by  lying  down.  We  see  how  Mrs. 
Rankling,  egged  on  by  Miss  Dyott,  turns  on  her  ferocious  husband ;  how 
Queckett  has  a  very  bad  time  of  it ;  how  the  young  bride  and  bridegroom 
win  pardon  ;  and  how  the  governess-pupil  gains  a  husband.  All  this,  and 
more  than  this,  does  Mr.  Pinero  shows  us  amid  a  perfect  fusillade  of 
witticisms,  and  leaves  his  audience  so  exhausted  with  laughter  that  the 
critical  faculty  is  entirely  suspended  in  anxiety  for  the  condition  of  their 
zygomatic  muscles.  Certainly  a  merry  piece  "The  Schoolmistress,'7 
somewhat  thin  in  plot,  and  weak  in  construction,  but  brilliantly  written^ 
and  most  amusing. 

The  farce  was  capitally  acted.  Mr.  Arthur  Cecil  in  the  Hon.  Vere 
Queckett  had  a  part  which  exactly  suited  him.  Mr.  Cecii'o  method  is 
remarkable  for  finish  rather  than  breadth,  indeed,  having  an  occasional 
tendency  to  over-elaboration  ;  but  in  this  case  every  little  touch  told,  and  the 
impersonation  was  a  thoroughly  delightful  bit  of  work.  A  capital  contrast 
was  afforded  by  Mr.  Clayton's  Admiral  Rankling,  a  most  humorous 
embodiment  of  a  rough  old  sea-dog,  with  a  glaring  eye  and  terrific  voice, 


270  THE    THEATRE.  [MAY  i,  1886. 

rendered  raucous  by  rum  and  bad  weather.  As  Miss  Dyott,  or  rather 
Mrs.  Queckett,  Mrs.  John  Wood  was,  as  indeed  she  always  is,  inimitable- 
She  caught  the  tone  of  the  prima  donna  of  comic  opera  with  greater 
accuracy,  as  may  readily  be  imagined,  than  that  of  the  mistress  of  a  school 
for  young  ladies,  and  a  little  bit  of  a  scena  delivered  in  the  last  act  was 
one  of  the  hits  of  the  piece.  A  good  deal  of  the  work  in  the  play  falls  to 
Miss  Norreys,  as  the  articled  pupil,  and  she  played  with  much  spirit.  She 
wanted  experience,  however,  and,  while  evidently  feeling  her  part,  has 
not  at  present  the  art  of  communicating  her  high  spirits  to  the  audience  ; 
she  hardly  seemed  to  get  en  rapport  with  them ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  there 
was  a  weird  impishness  about  her  that  was  decidedly  effective.  Miss 
Emily  Cross  played  neatly  as  Mrs.  Rankling  ;  Mr.  Kerr  was  a  most 
satisfactory  Lieutenant  Mallory ;  and  Mr.  Edwin  Victor  a  delightful 
"  Midshipmite."  Other  characters  were  well  sustained,  and  calls  for  all 
concerned  brought  a  very  pleasant  entertainment  to  a  conclusion. 
Everyone  should  see  "  The  Schoolmistress." 

H.  SAVILE  CLARKE. 


"JIM  THE  PENMAN." 

A  "Romance  of  Modern  Society,"  in  Four  Acts,  by  Sir  CHARLES  L.  YOUNG,  Bart. 
Produced  at  the  Haymarket  Theatre  on  Saturday,  April  3,  1886. 


James  Ralston  MR.  ARTHUR  DACRE. 

Louis  Percival MR.  BARRYMORE. 

Baron  Hartfeld MR.  H.  BEERBOHM-TREB. 

Captain  Redwood    ...  MR.  CHARLES  BROOKFIELD. 

Lerd  Drelincourt     ...  MR.  EDMUND  MAURICE. 

George  Ralston MR.  FRANK  RODNEY. 

Mr.  Chapstone,  Q.C...  MR.  FORBES  DAWSON. 


Mr.  Netherby,  M.P. 
Dr.  Petty  wise    ... 

Butler 

Apnes  Ralston  ... 
Lady  Dunscombe 
Mrs.  Chapstone... 
Mrs.  Ralston 


MR.  ULICK  WINTER. 
MR.  P.  BEN  GREET. 
MR.  BASIL  WEST. 
Miss  HELEN  LEYTON. 
Miss  HENRIETTA  LINDLBY. 
MRS.  E.  H.  BROOKE. 
LADY  MONCKTON. 


In  the  face  of  the  sad  lamentations  issuing  from  certain  quarters  on 
the  dearth  of  modern  English  dramatists,  such  a  play  as  "  Jim  the 
Penman  "  should  be  welcomed.  Sir  Charles  Young  is  no  novice  in 
stagecraft,  and  he  has  given  us  an  excellent  piece  of  workmanship  ; 
an  interesting  story,  cleverly  woven  into  the  scenes  of  a  well- 
constructed  play.  "  Jim  the  Penman  "  is  not  a  play  with  a  purpose  ; 
nor  is  it  a  deep  analysis  of  character  likely  to  make  us  reflect  at  length 
on  some  particular  side  of  human  nature  which  had  but  lightly  im- 
pressed us  before.  It  simply,  but  thoroughly,  justifies  the  author's 
own  description — "  A  romance  of  modern  society."  It  is  a  page  torn 
from  the  book  of  every-day  life — one  of  its  dark  days,  with  clouds  and 
thunder  foreshadowing  the  impending  storm.  The  author  does  not 
take  us  by  surprise  ;  from  the  first  we  are  taken  into  his  confidence, 
bmt  so  well  is  the  story  told  that  we  listen  to  him  with  rapt  attention 
unto  the  very  end,  though  we  guess  what  is  coming.  There  is  no 
"  filling  up  "  in  his  narration  ;  not  only  the  interest  does  not  flag,  but, 
better  still,  it  is  progressive,  and  the  last  act  is,  as  it  should  be,  the 
culminating  point. 

The  story  runs  thus :  James  Ralston,  a  wealthy  philanthropist, 
moving  in  the  best  society,  and  on  the  eve  of  becoming  an  M.P.,  is 
known  by  everyone  to  be  something  in  the  City  ;  but  even  his  wife — a 
clever,  charming  woman — is  kept  in  ignorance  as  to  his  business  and 


MAY  i,  1886. j  OUR  PLAY-BOX.  271 

the  real  source  of  his  fortune.  They  appear  to  be  a  happy  couple. 
Their  daughter  is  engaged  to  Lord  Drelincourt,  a  young  man  who 
realises  all  that  the  girl  and  parents  could  wish  for,  as  lover  and  son- 
in-law  ;  their  son,  a  good-natured,  impulsive  boy,  adores  his  mother  J 
all  seems  bright  and  smiling,  but  for  this  little  shadow  of  want  of 
confidence  between  husband  and  wife.  Long  habit,  however,  has 
taught  Mrs.  Ralston  not  to  insist  on  this  point,  nor  to  give  it  much 
thought. 

The  play  opens  at  the  close  "of  a  dinner-party  at  the  Ralstons. 
From  some  hints  thrown  out  by  the  family  doctor,  we  learn  that  the 
master  of  the  house  is  in  a  precarious  state  of  health,  but  this  also 
he  has  studiously  kept  to  himself.  At  the  very  outset  of  the  story,  a 
little  incident  occurs  that  is  all-important ;  it  is  the  slow-match  applied 
to  the  mine,  which  is  to  shatter  all  in  the  end.  On  being  asked  to 
subscribe  to  some  charity,  Ralston  takes  up  his  wife's  cheque-book, 
and  asks  her  if  he  may  sign  her  name  to  a  cheque,  she  answering  "  of  course.1" 
No  doubt  Mrs.  Ralston  takes  his  meaning  to  be  that  he  will  sign  his 
name  to  the  cheque  for  her,  not  that  he  is  about  to  imitate  her  signa- 
ture, else  her  answer  would  be  rather  startling  ;  he  does  so,  however, 
little  thinking  at  the  time  that  he  is  signing  away  his  wife's  faith  and 
trust  in  him.  If  Ralston  had  said,  "  May  I  use  one  of  your  cheques  ?" 
the  incident  would  have  lost  its  look  of  improbability,  and  the  aim  of 
the  author  would  have  been  equally  well  attained.  Two  unexpected 
-visitors  appear  on  the  scene.  One  of  the  guests  having  asked  leave 
to  bring  a  friend  in  the  evening,  this  friend  turns  out  to  be  no  other 
than  one  Louis  Percival,  an  old  schoolfellow  of  James  Ralston,  and 
an  old  playmate  and  lover  of  Mrs.  Ralston.  These  two  had  been 
engaged  in  former  days,  but  the  engagement  had  been  broken  off,  and 
Percival  had  gone  to  America.  He  has  just  returned  after  many 
years  of  absence,  and  they  now  meet  again — he  with  suppressed 
emotion,  she  with  friendly  but  studied  indifference.  Through  life, 
Percival  has  been  a  sad  victim  to  fate ;  having  lost  the  woman  he 
loved,  he  has  been  robbed  of  the  large  fortune  he  amassed  in  America 
t>y  a  forged  cheque,  drawing  out  the  whole  amount  from  the  bank  at 
one  sweep.  He  is  relating  this  part  of  his  story  when  he  is  inter- 
rupted by  a  certain  Captain  Redwood,  who  is  strangely  given  to  falling 
asleep  at  odd  moments,  slipping  off  his  chair  and  breaking  some  china. 
The  second  visitor  is  a  Baron  Hartfeld,who  is  introduced  as  a  business 
acquaintance  of  Ralston,  his  appearance  being  evidently  highly  dis- 
tasteful to  the  latter.  When  the  other  guests  have  retired  and  these 
two  are  left  alone,  we  at  once  learn  the  cause  of  this,  and  the  mystery 
of  James  Ralston's  life.  A  fatal  gift — a  facility  for  imitating  hand- 
writing— has,  step  by  step,  led  him  from  crime  to  crime.  This  man, 
respected  by  all,  owes  his  wealth  to  numberless  forgeries  ;  in  fact,  he 
is  no  ether  than  the  notorious  "Jim  the  Penman,"  whose  identity  the 
police  have  hitherto  failed  to  trace.  He  is  connected  with  an  associa- 
tion of  swindlers  who  live  by  his  pen.  The  game  is  getting  dangerous, 


272  THE    THEATRE.  [MAY  i,  1886. 

and  the  Baron,  one  of  the  chief  members  of  the  association,  has  come 
to  propose  a  last  stroke  of  business,  after  which  the  partnership  will 
be  dissolved.  Ralston,  on  hearing  that  he  is  expected  to  forge  an 
•order  to  draw  the  Drelincourt  diamonds  (worth  an  enormous  amount) 
out  of  the  bank,  at  first  refuses  ;  but,  pressed  by  the  Baron,  and  with 
the  thought  that  after  this  he  will  be  able  to  bury  the  past,  he  yields. 
His  worldly  position  is,  to  him,  dearer  than  life,  and  he  will  do  any- 
thing to  retain  it.  "  Oh  !  that  I  might  live  as  other  men  !"  is  his  great 
cry.  New  discoveries  are  unfolded  to  us  as  the  story  proceeds.  The 
day  after  the  party  Percival  calls  on  Mrs.  Ralston  ;  she  alludes  to  his 
wife,  and,  finding  that  he  has  remained  single  all  these  years,  her 
astonishment  leads  to  an  explanation,  when  they  discover  that  they 
have  both  been  duped  into  thinking  the  other  had  broken  off  the 
engagement,  and  they  have  been  severed  by  means  of  two  letters  forged 
in  their  own  handwriting.  Mrs.  Ralston  vows  she  will  keep  both 
letters  until  she  can  trace  the  author.  Nemesis  is  on  the  track  of 
Jim  the  Penman.  The  diamonds  are  already  in  the  possession  of  the 
Baron,  but  Lord  Drelincourt,  anxious  to  show  them  to  his  fiancee, 
has  gone  to  the  bank  and  discovered  the  robbery  ;  and,  a  description 
of  the  jewels,  with  a  reward  offered  for  their  recovery,  being  pub- 
lished at  once,  the  immediate  disposing  of  them  becomes  impossible. 
On  hearing  Drelincourt  has  gone  for  the  diamonds,  Ralston  half 
swoons  on  the  sofa,  exclaiming  "  my  heart,"  and  thus  his  wife  learns 
for  the  first  time  that  he  is  suffering  from  heart  disease.  Percival  is 
still  present  at  the  time,  and  Captain  Redwood  has  also  called. 
Anxious  that  this  incident  should  not  be  dwelt  upon,  Ralston  asks 
Percival  to  proceed  with  his  story,  interrupted  on  the  previous  night, 
as  to  the  cause  of  his  crossing  the  Atlantic.  The  latter  then  explains 
that  it  was  at  the  bidding  of  a  London  firm  of  private  detectives,who 
have  at  last  traced  the  forger  who  ruined  him.  Captain  Redwood 
has  again  tried  to  interrupt  him,  though  uselessly  this  time,  and  we 
learn  from  an  aside,  what  we  have  already  guessed,  that  the  Captain's 
power  of  observation  and  social  opportunities  are  at  the  service  of  the 
firm  of  detectives  mentioned  by  Percival.  After  this,  the  Ralstons 
leave  London  for  their  country  seat ;  he  is  busying  himself  about  his 
election,  and  the  marriage  of  the  young  people  is  about  to  take  place. 
Ralston  is  nervous  and  depressed  ;  anxious  about  his  health,  his  wife 
questions  him,  but  is  only  answered  by  an  irritable  denial  that  any- 
thing is  wrong  or  weighing  on  his  mind.  The  Baron  has  followed 
them,  a  self-invited  guest.  Captain  Redwood  has  also — accidentally) 
he  says — come  to  stay  in  the  neighbourhood.  There  we  have  one  of 
the  most  powerful  scenes  in  the  play.  Mrs.  Ralston,  on  examining 
her  pass-book,  fails  to  remember  having  signed  a  certain  cheque  for 
five  pounds  ;  her  husband  recalls  to  her  the  circumstances  of  the 
dinner-party,  when  she  gave  him  leave  to  sign  a  cheque  in  her  name. 
At  first,  Mrs.  Ralston's  feeling  is  only  one  of  astonishment  at  her 
signature  being  so  perfectly  imitated  ;  then  gradually  a  terrible 


MAY  i,  1886. 


OUR  PLAY-BOX.  273 


thought  dawns  upon  her  ;  she  draws  out  the  letter  purported  to  have 
been  written  by  her  to  Percival  to  break  off  the  engagement, 
and  compares  it  with  the  cheque.  The  fearful  truth  then 
forces  itself  upon  her — it  is  her  husband  who  had  written 
those  letters.  In  a  fury  of  indignation  she  turns  upon  him 
and  upbraids  him  ;  the  son  and  daughter  are  seen  approaching  in  the 
garden,  as  she  exclaims,  "  I  am  no  longer  your  wife."  "  But  you  are 
the  mother  of  my  children,"  he  answers  ;  "  will  you  tell  them  ?"  She 
casts  a  look  of  despair  towards  the  advancing  couple,  and  sinking  on 
a  chair,  "  I  can't !  I  can't !"  are  the  words  wrung  from  her  heart. 
And  the  curtain  comes  down  on  one  of  the  strongest  situations  ever 
found  in  modern  drama. 

We  are  now  nearing  the  end.  This  is  the  wedding  day,  and 
Percival  is  one  of  the  guests.  He  has  meanwhile  learned,  from 
Redwood,  that  the  man  who  ruined  him  was  no  other  than  his  old 
school-fellow ;  but  as  his  case  is  the  only  one  in  which  Jim  the 
Penman  can  be  convicted,  he  has  refused  to  prosecute,  that  the 
shame  may  not  fall  on  the  woman  he  has  loved  so  well,  and  on  her 
innocent  children.  Ralston  and  the  Baron  have  overheard  this,  and 
therefore  feel  safe  in  that  quarter.  Percival  has  only  come  at  the 
earnest  request  of  Mrs.  Ralston,  for  she  wishes  to  reveal  to  him  the 
name  of  the  author  of  the  forged  letters.  Misunderstanding  her,  and 
thinking  she  now  knows  all,  Percival,  unknowingly,  is  the  first  to 
apprise  her  of  the  terrible  fact  that  her  husband  and  Jim  the  Penman 
are  one.  This  scene  is  not  altogether  to  be  commended.  Had 
Percival  been  in  the  house  at  the  time  when  the  injured  woman 
learned  that  it  was  her  husband  who  had  forged  the  letter  which  had 
"  wrecked  her  life,"  her  disclosing  the  fact  to  Percival  would  be  very 
natural,  and  who  would  have  the  heart  to  blame  her  ?  But  would  she 
send  for  him  in  view  to  this  revelation  after  some  days  had  passed, 
anxious  as  she  is  to  keep  the  knowledge  from  her  children,  and 
remembering  that  Percival  has  sworn  to  show  the  man  no  mercy 
when  he  found  him.  A  very  powerful  scene  between  husband  and 
wife  follows,  in  which  she  upbraids  him  on  having  made  her  live  on 
the  price  of  his  infamy.  "  Restitution  to  the  last  farthing,"  she  cries  ; 
but  here  a  very  fine  scene  is  spoilt  by  her  adding  "  And  confess  to  the 
world  who  you  are!  "  Are  we  given  to  understand  that  she  would 
herself  denounce  her  husband,  and  send  him  to  penal  servitude  ?  This 
would  be  both  untrue  and  unwomanly.  During  her  long  married  life 
she  and  her  husband  have  lived  on  friendly  terms,  and  however  much 
she  may  hate  him  now,  she  would  not  be  the  one  to  hand  him  over  to 
justice.  The  last  scene  of  all  is  wrought  with  great  intensity.  The 
Baron,  mingling  persuasion  and  threats,  forces  his  accomplice's 
consent  to  give  him  a  large  sum  in  exchange  for  the  stolen  diamondsi 
which  Ralston  will  be  supposed  to  have  recovered  through  the  reward 
offered.  But  meanwhile,  Redwood  has^found  and  possessed  himself 
of  them,  and  appears  on  the  scene,  casket  in  hand.  With  sudden 


274  THE    THEATRE.  [MAY  i,  1886. 

audacity,  James  Ralston  hands  to  Redwood  the  promised  r  eward 
doubled,  and  bids  him  go  and  present  the  bride  and  bridegroom  with 
the  jewels.  But  when  the  two  accomplices  are  once  more  alone,  the 
foiled  Baron,  white  with  suppressed  rage,  throws  himself  like  a  wild 
beast  on  Ralston,  to  possess  himself  of  the  remaining  notes  in  his 
pocket-book.  The  shock  of  the  struggle  is  too  much  for  Ralston, 
who  dies  of  heart  disease  while  the  wedding  breakfast  is  taking  place. 
And  so  ends  the  story  of  the  unrelenting  downfall  of  a  man  raised  to  a 
high  pinnacle  by  crime.  The  name  of  "  Jim  the  Penman  "  is  not  a 
creation  of  the  author's  brain,  but  belonged  to  a  notorious  forger  many 
years  ago.  The  four  acts  of  this  story — one  that  is  terribly,  sadly  true, 
for  the  sins  of  this  man  not  only  bring  retribution  on  himself,  but  suffering 
and  misery  on  his  surroundings — are  well  worked  up.  The  scenes  are 
extremely  well  put  together,  and,  with  the  exceptions  I  have 
mentioned,  are  brought  about  in  a  natural  and  consistent  manner.  I 
have  only  given  the  outline  of  the  plot,  but  the  details  are  good,  and 
cleverly  woven  into  the  main  story. 

The  principal  character  is  a  difficult  one,  owing  to  the  great 
contrasts  in  it.  James  Ralston  is  a  combination  of  resolution, 
audacity,  and  weakness,  a  character  which  would  be  looked  upon  as 
inconsistent  were  it  not  for  the  terrible  disease  which  undermines  the 
physical  strength  of  the  man,  and  consequently  affects  his  moral 
strength.  Mr.  Arthur  Dacre  acts  very  well  in  this  r$et  but  these 
contrasts  are  at  times  very  trying  to  him,  and  in  several  instances  he 
lacks  sufficient  power  to  raise  the  impersonation  to  the  height  it  might 
attain.  His  death  scene  is  extremely  well  realised.  Still  more  difficult 
is  the  part  of  Mrs.  Ralston,  and  Lady  Monckton  does  wonders  with  it. 
She  shows  intelligence,  power,  and  intensity  of  feeling  rarely  met 
with.  Where  she  fails  is  where  pathos  is  required,  and  therefore  her 
scene  with  her  daughter  in  the  last  act  is  the  least  successful.  But 
no  living  actress  could  excel  her  in  the  dumb  scene,  when  she 
compares  the  letter  and  the  cheque  ;  the  pause  is  one  of  unusual 
length  on  the  stage,  and  the  various  feelings  which  take  place  within  her 
are  reflected  in  the  expression  of  her  face  with  admirable  artistic  skill. 
Seldom  has  an  actress  had  such  a  difficult  task  set  her,  and  she  comes 
through  the  ordeal  triumphantly.  Mr.  Maurice  Barrymore,  who  now 
takes  the  part  of  Louis  Percival,  is  the  right  man  in  the  right  place. 
He  gives  both  dignity  and  earnestness  to  the  character.  Mr.  Beer- 
bohm-Tree  as  the  Baron  is  not  made  up  with  his  usual  skill ;  it  is 
rather  overdone.  His  best  opportunity  for  acting  comes  in  the  last 
act,  and  he  makes  the  most  of  it ;  the  rage  of  the  foiled  scoundrel  is 
powerfully  and  artistically  depicted.  Mr.  Charles  Brookfield  has 
done  nothing  better  than  Captain  Redwood  ;  it  is  a  most  finished  per- 
formance. The  small  parts  are  in  good  hands,  all  helping  to  the 
general  excellence,  Miss  Henrietta  Lindley  and  Mr.  Frank  Rodney 
deserving  a  special  word  of  praise. 

"  Jim  the  Penman"  will  no  doubt  continue  to  draw  good  houses; 


MAY  i,  1886.]  QUR     PLAY-BOX. 

an  interesting,  well-written,  and  well-acted  play  cannot  but  follow  up 
the  success  it  has  already  achieved. 

MARIE  DE  MENSIAUX. 


"SOPHIA." 

A  Four-Act  Comedy,  adapted  by  ROBRRT  HCCHAXAX  from  Kiel  linf,''.i  Novel,  "  Tom'Jones." 

Produced  at  the  Vaudeville  Theatre  on  Monday  afternoon,  April  12,  1880. 
Tom  Jones     .........    MR.  CHARLES  GLEXXEY.     [Honour    ............     Mi.ss  LOTTIE  VKXSK. 

Mr.  Allworthy       ......    MR.  GILBERT  FARQUIIAR.      iSusan       ............     Mis«  LOUISA  PRACII. 

Blifll  ...............    MR.  ROYCB  CARLE  rox.          Molly  Seaffrlm      .....    Miss  HELEN  FORSYTII. 

Square     ............    MR.  H.  AKIII'RST.  j  Lady  Ildlastou      ......     MIHS  ROHK  LKCLKRCQ. 

Squire  Western     .....    MR.  FRED.  THORXE.  ,  Thicket     ............     MR.  COURTXBY. 

George  Seagrim 
Copse 


Partridge 

Sophia 

Miss  Western  ... 


MR.  FULLER  MKLLIHH.        j  Jim    MR.  JOHNSON. 

MR.  J.  WIIKATMAX.  Page MASTER  OLLETT. 

MR.  THOMAS  THORXE.          Matt MR.  A.  Ar.srix. 

Miss  KATE  RORKE.  !  Footman MR.  CAMPBELL. 

Miss  SOPHIE  LARKIX.  '  Lady  Bellaston'a  Maid...  Miss  BRITTAIX. 


A  crowded,  not  to  say  crammed,  house  greeted  Mr.  Buchanan's 
version  of  "  Tom  Jones"  at  the  Vaudeville,  brought  forward  at  a 
morning  performance.  This  seems  to  have  excited  a  certain  amount 
of  ingenious  speculation,  though  the  truth  is  it  has  been  constantly 
done  at  this  house — an  ingeniously  tentative  mode  of  experimenting 
on  an  audience.  The  acting  on  this  occasion  was  full  of  spirit  and 
liveliness,  and  the  distinct  freshness  of  the  characters  gave  unbounded 
satisfaction.  It  was  curious  to  note  the  suggestions  here  for  "The 
School  for  Scandal,"  it  being  clear  that  Sheridan  drew  the  characters 
of  the  two  Surfaces  from  Blifil  and  Tom.  It  is  not,  however,  so  well 
known  that  the  famous  and  ever-effective  "  screen  scene  "  was  taken 
from  the  same  source,  the  screen  being  the  old  curtain,  which  fell  so 
awkwardly  and  discovered  the  Tutor  in  Molly  Seagrim's  room. 
Even  the  culprit's  protest  on  his  detection  is  in  the  form  of  Joseph's 
"  Notwithstanding,  Sir  Peter,  all  that  has  passed,"  &c.  The 
amazingly  light  touch  of  Sheridan,  his  fashion  of  abstracting  the 
very  essence  of  a  character,  is  happily  shewn  by  contrast  with  this 
work  of  Mr.  Buchanan,  who,  at  least,  cannot  be  blamed  for  lacking 
the  genius  of  the  gifted  Brinsley.  Indeed,  the  modern  system  of 
bringing  out  details  of  a  character  is  invariably  to  make  every 
sentence  illustrate  the  character  as  the  hypocrite  may  only  deliver 
hypocritical  sentiments,  &c.,  whereas,  as  we  learn  from  Shakespeare, 
a  colourless  or  indifferent  line  is  often  as  appropriate. 

As  this  is  a  momentous  occasion — somewhat  awe-inspiring — with 
allusions  to  our  "great  English  novelist,  &c.,"  our  adaptor  must  of 
course  be  moved  to  issue  proclamation  of  motives — humility,  and 
so  forth — a  foolish  custom.  No  one  pays  the  least  attention  to  such 
things,  or  is  propitiated,  convinced,  or  in  any  wise  affected  thereby. 
Nay,  it  provokes  a  certain  amount  of  irreverence,  not  to  say  ridicule  ; 
for  it  needs  no  self-disclaimer  to  know  that  the  adaptor  is  not  of  the 
same  quality  as  his  subject.  Of  this  we  may  be  assured,  that  the 
humble  translator  is  responsible  for  blemishes,  whereas  all  the  merits 
are  those  of  "  our  eminent  English  novelist."  But  all  these  addresses 
to  the  public,  proclamations,  &c.,  are  but  the  distention  of  self-com- 
placency, and  should  be  abolished. 


276  THE    THEATRE.  [MAY  i,  1886. 

The  character  of  Blifil  was  "  laid  "  in  broad  colours  of  villainy.  He 
was  blacked  all  over,  and  nothing  was  left  to  the  imagination.  The  part 
was  well  played,  however,  by  one  who  is  "  new  to  the  town  "  —  to  use 
the  old  archaic  phrase  —  and  one  whom  the  town  is  likely  to  appreciate. 
Sophia  was  charmingly  rendered  by  Miss  Rorke,  with  a  pleasant,  spon- 
taneous freshness  which  won  her  audience.  Mr.  Glenny,  who  appeared 
as  Tom,  was  equally  animated,  and  had  an  old-comedy  air  and  manner, 
suggesting  one  of  the  characters  in  poor  Caldecott's  illustrations  to 
"  Bracebridge  Hall."  The  manager,  Mr.  Thorne,  contented  himself 
with  the  rather  modest  character  of  Partridge,  the  barber,  into 
which  he  infused  an  amount  of  subdued  pathos  commingled  with 
humour.  But  he  has  ever  a  quaint,  affected  simplicity  that  lends 
itself  to  the  tone  of  these  characters  of  old  comedy.  Still,  it  may  be 
doubted  if  this  excellent  player  has  latterly—  since  his  Graves  in 
"  Money  "  —  been  fitted  with  a  really  large  and  satisfactory  character, 
such  as  would  give  full  scope  to  his  talents  —  Crummies,  in  "  Nickleby," 
would  suit  him  well.  Miss  Leclercq,  as  Lady  Bellaston,  illustrated 
the  "  grand  style  "  and  majestic  air  of  distinction  which  is  so  often 
lacking  in  modern  players.  She  was  the  great  "dame"  all  over, 
rustling  in  her  silks  and  furbelows.  Praise,  too,  must  be  given  to 
Miss  Forsyth  for  her  rustic  maiden.  After  all,  why  was  not  the  play 
named  "  Tom  Jones  "  —  tout  bonnement  ? 

PERCY  FITZGERALD. 


©ur 


A  writer  in  "  The  Saturday  Review"  gives  his  reasons  for  considering 
that  no  dramatic  critic  should  be  a  dramatic  author.  But  there  are 
two  sides  to  every  question,  and  to  deny  to  the  critic  the  value  of  prac- 
tical experience  in  the  art  he  discusses  is  to  disregard  the  candid 
opinion  of  an  expert.  It  is  curious  that  "  The  Saturday  Review"  should 
hunt  the  old  hare,  for  this  very  paper  was  instituted  for  encouraging 
exactly  the  same  system  in  journalism  that  its  editor  condemns  in 
regard  to  one  of  the  fine  arts.  In  the  early  days  of  "  The  Saturday 
Review  "  the  writers  were  selected  by  its  first  editor,  John  Douglas 
Cook,  to  review  the  books  on  subjects  with  which  they  were  most 
familiar.  Thus  the  poet  was  asked  to  review  the  poet's  book,  the 
novelist  tackled  the  last  new  work  of  fiction,  the  traveller  discussed 
the  last  volume  of  adventure,  the  barrister  was  told  off  to  handle  the 
last  law  book,  and  so  on.  John  Oxenford  was  selected  to  write  about 
the  drama,  because  not  only  had  he  written  plays,  but  because  he 
knew  more  about  dramatic  literature  than  most  men  of  his  time. 
James  Davison  was  the  first  musical  critic  of  "  The  Saturday  Review," 
because  he  was  a  writer  and  an  executant.  It  would  surprise  me 
very  much  if  exactly  the  same  system  were  not  pursued  on  *'  The 


MAY  i,  i886.]  OUR    OMNIBUS-BOX.  277 

Saturday  Review"  to  this  very  day.  Gosse,  Lang,  Saintsbury,  Pollock, 
Alfred  Watson,  and  many  others,  are  not  discarded  as  reviewers 
because  they  write  books.  It  is  because  they  write  books  that  they 
are  able  to  review  them. 


Surely  the  opinion  of  an  expert  has  some  value  in  connection  with 
the  drama,  as  with  the  other  arts.  A  painter  who  has  gone  through 
the  drudgery  of  his  art  and  become  practically  acquainted  with  the 
difficulty  of  it,  and  who  can  express  his  views  on  painting  on  paper, 
is  not  on  that  account  the  worst  critic  that  could  be  selected.  John 
Ruskin  is  not  to  be  despised  because  he  can  paint  and  draw.  A 
musician  who  is  an  executant  and  composer,  who  at  the  same  time 
can  write,  is  surely  more  competent  to  criticise  than  one  who  does 
not  know  one  note  from  another.  There  is  scarcely  a  musical  critic 
of  any  value  on  the  Press  who  is  professedly  ignorant  of  the  technical 
part  of  the  art  he  discusses,  or  who  does  not  vary  the  duties  of  criti- 
cism with  the  pleasure  of  composition. 


Why,  then,  should  not  the  same  rule  apply  to  the  drama  ?  Human 
nature  is  not  so  bad  nor  is  moral  sense  so  low  as  "  young  authors" 
and  spiteful  editors  of  theatrical  journals  would  imply.  Our  hands 
are  not  all  at  our  neighbours'  throats.  We  are  not  all  eaten  up  with 
spleen  because  our  neighbours  succeed.  There  is  room  enough  in 
the  world  for  more  than  one  dramatist,  author,  critic,  journalist,  or 
whatnot.  The  writer  who  would  use  a  position  of  influence  to  abuse 
it  would  soon  be  discovered  and  deposed  from  his  post.  The  fierce 
light  of  notoriety  beats  upon  every  word  he  utters,  every  action  he 
commits.  He  can  respect  the  feeling  of  others  as  well  as  his  own, 
and  is  well  aware  of  the  responsibility  entrusted  to  him  by  such  as 
bestow  on  him  their  confidence.  Is  it  not  possible  that  a  critic,  when 
he  has  written  a  play,  when  he  has  had  practical  experience  of  the 
stage,  when  he  has  attended  rehearsals,  when  he  has  studied  from 
top  to  bottom  the  mechanical  part  of  the  actor's  art,  becomes  more 
lenient  to  their,  failures  and  shortcomings  ?  A  man  who  has  never 
rehearsed  a  play  or  opera,  or  seen  one  rehearsed,  has  no  idea  of  the 
difficulties  that  beset  the  actor's  calli  ng.  The  critic  who  has  studied 
all  this,  who  "  knows  the  ropes,"  is  inclined  to  be  more  encouraging 
than  severe.  It  is  the  ignoramus  who  slashes,  the  man  of  experience 
who  deals  gently  with  failure,  and  encourages  talent  in  the  land. 
Mr.  Watson  told  us  the  other  day  that  in  his  early  career  he  was 
advised  by  an  experienced  actor  to  go  on  the  stage  before  he 
attempted  to  criticise.  The  same  experience  is  derived  from  writing 
a  play,  and  from  studying  the  practical  working  of  the  stage. 

Besides,  the  talented  editor  of  "The  Saturday  Review"  ought  to  know 
that  the  most  brilliant  essayists  who  have  written  on  the  subject  of 


278  THE  THEATRE.  [MAY  i,  1886. 

the  drama  were  not  unknown  as  dramatic  authors.  Does  he  disre- 
gard the  opinions  of  Theophile  Gautier,  Jules  Janin,  Octave  Feuillet, 
Alexandre  Dumas,  Jules  Claretie,  Fran$ois  Coppee,  because  they 
have  written  plays  ?  Would  he  silence  a  George  Henry  Lewes,  a 
John  Oxenford,  a  Tom  Taylor,  a  Blanchard,  a  Bayle  Bernard,  or  a 
Stirling  Coyne,  because  they  were  prolific  dramatists  ?  Are  the  re- 
corded words  of  Augustin  Daly  and  William  Winter  invaluable  because 
they  are  composers  of  original  thought  as  well  as  writers  of  original 
language  ?  They  are  one  and  all  experts,  and  the  opinion  of  an 
expert  is  relatively  more  valuable  than  that  of  any  young  author  or 
young  journalist  under  the  sun. 


Consistency  is  apparently  impossible  when  questions  of  propriety  or 
impropriety,  morality  or  immorality,  niceness  or  nastiness  arise  in  con- 
nection with  great  dramatic  subjects.  I  should  like  to  ask  some  of  those 
who  are  most  prominent  in  their  denunciation  of  the  "  outrage "  in 
permitting  the  "  Cenci"  to  be  played  as  it  was  written  by  Shelley,  whether 
any  of  these  extremely  nice-minded  people  ever  saw,  or  countenanced, 
or  encouraged  others  to  see  Rachel  or  Sara  Bernhardt  in  "Phedre."  Surely 
the  motive  of  "  Phedre  "  is  infinitely  more  horrible  in  its  detail,  more  out- 
spoken in  its  analysis  of  diseased  passion  than  the  "Cenci."  In  "  Phedre  " 
the  indulgence  in  the  mind-destroying  vice  is  habitual ;  in  the  "  Cenci"  it  is 
sudden.  In  "Phe"dre  "  it  is  a  self-absorption  ;  in  the  "Cenci"  it  is  a  quick 
access  ofrevenge.  And  yet  I  have  seen  "  Phedre"  played  by  Sara  Bernhardt 
with  the  full  and  deliberate  countenance  of  Court  and  society,  of  literature 
and  fashion,  without  a  murmur  of  disapproval  being  uttered.  The  ques- 
tion of  forbidding  "  Phedre  "  never  arose,  and  yet  the  whole  play  turns  on 
the  horror  of  an  incestuous  passion.  Among  the  old  text-books  of  the 
East-end  drama  is  a  very  celebrated  play,  "  The  Tower  of  Nesle."  It  is  a 
translation  of  the  "  Tour  de  Nesle,"  one  of  the  most  popular  melodramas 
that  was  ever  performed  in  France.  It  was  passed,  approved,  and  licensed 
in  this  country,  and  yet  it  has  for  its  primary  motive  an  accidental  act  of 
incest.  This  fact  has  hitherto  prevented  the  revival  of  the  "  Tour  de 
Nesle,"  and  it  is  not  surprising  that  it  should  be  so,  for  we  cannot  here 
cover  the  grossness  of  the  idea  with  any  elevated  thought  or  beauty  of 
language.  The  poet  and  the  artist  can  elevate  and  ennoble  any  subject 
just  as  the  clown  and  the  buffoon  can  degrade  them.  The  naked  motive 
power  of  "Nadjezda"  was  shown,  because  it  happened  to  be  a  strong, 
terrible  subject  feebly  handled.  Had  an  artist  like  Rachel  or  Sarah 
Bernhardt  handled  Nadjezda  we  should  not  have  heard  one  word  of 
disgust  uttered  over  the  circumstance  that  in  a  romantic  play  a  woman  is 
called  upon  to  sacrifice  her  honour  to  save  her  husband's  life. 


The  name  of  "  Jim  the  Penman  "  was  given  by  the  police  to  a  notorious 
forger  who  for  a  long  time  baffled  their  ingenuity.  The  criminal  was 
a  barrister,  and  his  name  was  Saward.  His  deeds  are  recorded  in  that 
interesting  publication,  the  police  calendar.  I  was  amused  at  seeing  the 


VVWVXVVVXVVVVXXXVXXXVVXXXXWXXXXXXXXXXXX 


"Oh,  I  do  dearly  love  a  buss  from  one 
who  hath  a  smooth  chin." 

SOPHIA. 


FROM   A  PHOTOGRAPH  SPECIALLY  TAKEN   FOR   "THE  THEATRE"  BY   BARRAUD,   263,  OXFORD 

STREET,   Vf. 


MAY  i,  1886.]  OUR  OMNIBUS-BOX.  279 

other  day  an  extract  from  a  letter  written  by  a  well-known  solicitor,  one  of 
whose  family  prosecuted  Saward.  He  says  :  "  I  was  amused  at  seeing  the 
name  of  '  Jim  the  Penman  '  as  the  title  of  a  play.  He  must,  I  should  think, 
have  been  dead  a  long  time.  He  was  very  ill  when  he  returned  from 
abroad  on  a  ticket  of  leave,  which  must  be  more  than  fifteen  years  ago.  I 
then  saw  him  once  on  his  calling  to  see  my  late  brother,  but  have  seen  or 
heard  nothing  of  him  since."  It  was  the  casual  mention  of  such  a 
character  that  gave  Sir  Charles  Young  the  idea  of  writing  the  play  that 
has  proved  so  wonderfully  successful  at  the  Haymarket. 


The  dearth  of  young,  clever,  and  powerful  actresses  has  given  rise  to 
many  a  cry  of  despair.  We  should  be  all  the  more  ready,  therefore,  to 
encourage  and  foster  talent  that  is  yet  in  the  bud,  but  promises  to  blossom 
eventually.  A  very  remarkable  engagement  has  been  played  at  the  Grand 
Theatre,  Islington,  recently  by  Miss  Florence  West,  a  young  lady  who 
has  been  touring  in  the  provinces  with  the  plays  of  Hugh  Conway  and 
Comyns  Carr.  Her  performance  of  Pauline  in  "  Called  Back  "  is  a  very 
striking  one.  It  is  more  than  intelligent — it  is  intense.  From  a  small 
but  supple  frame  comes  a  voice  of  strength,  but  capable  of  modulation, 
and  it  says  something  for  the  power  of  a  young  actress  when  she  can  hold 
a  Saturday  night  audience  at  so  large  a  theatre  as  the  Grand.  Her  mad 
scene  was  singularly  vivid,  and  her  power  of  suddenly  rising  to  a  tragic 
situation  remarkable  in  one  so  young  and  so  comparatively  inexperienced, 
Miss  West  is  physically  well  suited  to  intense  and  passionate  characters, 
for  her  face  is  expressive  and  her  form  slim.  It  is  not  often  that  one 
sees  so  thorough  and  powerful  a  performance  as  that  of  Miss  West  as 
Pauline,  or  that  of  Mr.  Lewis  Waller  as  her  passionate  lover  in  "  Called 
Back.'*  They  have  both  the  right  stuff  in  them,  and  they  do  not  belong 
to  the  namby-pamby  school  of  force  reserved  that  so  often  means  force 
non-existent.  They  will  both  come  to  the  front,  for  they  have  vigour  and 
style. 

Another  surprising  success  has  been  made  in  the  course  of  the  month  by 
Miss  Helen  Forsyth,  the  bright,  clever,  human  little  Molly  Seagrim  attached 
to  Mr.  Robert  Buchanan's  "Sophia"  at  the  Vaudeville.  Hitherto,  Miss 
Helen  Forsyth  has  only  been  known  as  the  pretty  girl  in  several 
Haymarket  plays.  With  a  sweet  voice  and  a  charmingly  refined  manner, 
she  has  justly  been  considered  one  of  the  best  of  the  modern  drawing- 
room  young  ladies.  She  was  welcomed,  and  justly  so,  in  *'  Dark  Days," 
and  at  the  first  performance  of  "  Jim  the  Penman  "  she  showed  how  a 
bright,  happy  English  girl  can  be  naturally  and  unaffectedly  played.  But 
few  were  prepared  for  the  transformation  as  Molly  Seagrim.  Away  went 
the  pretty  frocks,  the  fair  skin  was  stained  to  the  tint  of  a  gipsy,  and 
Miss  Forsyth  appeared  to  the  very  life  as  a  country  hoyden,  loving, 
ignorant,  passionate,  unsophisticated,  the  very  picture  of  a  village  wench 
who  might  have  been  a  poacher's  daughter.  But  Miss  Forsyth  did  not 
succeed  alone  as  a  picture  of  highly-coloured  rusticity.  She  entered  into 
the  heart  and  spirit  of  the  character.  She  understood  Molly  Seagrim,  the 


28o  THE  THE  A  TRE.  [MAY  i,  1886. 

tangled  weed  of  the  country  lanes,  soon  to  be  crushed  under  a  strong 
man's  heel.  It  was  a  clever  performance  because  we  felt  there  was  art  in 
it  and  not  artifice.  Directly  Miss  Forsyth  came  on  the  stage  the  whole 
attention  of  the  house  was  directed  towards  her.  She  had  enlisted  the 
sympathetic  attention  of  her  audience,  and  she  held  it  whenever  she  was 
on  the  stage. 

The  new  burlesque  of  "Oliver  Grumble*'  at  the  Novelty  is  a 
spirited,  laughable  work,  and  deserving  of  praise  as  the  initial  effort 
of  a  new  author,  Mr.  George  Dance,  who  evidently  has  a  keen  sense 
of  fun.  For  those  who  can  appreciate  an  admirable  bit  of  fooling, 
this  is  the  very  piece.  That  talented  couple,  Mr.  Willie  Edouin  and 
Miss  Alice  Atherton,  are  the  mainstay  of  the  burlesque,  and  give 
clever  and  highly-diverting  performances.  Miss  Atherton,  in 
particular,  is  worthy  of  the  highest  praise  for  her  sweet,  spirited, 
and  winning  acting.  She  has  been  specially  photographed  in  her 
character  in  the  burlesque  ior  this  number  of  THE  THEATRE.  Mr. 
Edouin  and  Miss  Atherton  are  not  the  only  attractive  features  in  this 
production,  which  is  also  assisted  by  the  clever  acting  and  genuine 
humour  of  Mr.  Arthur  Williams  as  Grumble,  the  stately  and  beautiful 
presence  of  Miss  Edith  Blande  as  King  Charles,  the  animation  of 
Misses  Emily  Spiller,  Addy  Conyers,  and  Jennie  Dawson,  and  the 
singing  of  Miss  Florence  Dysart. 

Mr.  William  Archer,  the  well-known  "  W.  A."  of  "  The  World," 
whose  portrait  appears  this  month,  was  born  at  Perth  on  September 
23,  1856.  He  was  educated  at  several  private  schools,  both  in 
England  and  Scotland,  and  finished  his  education  at  Edinburgh 
University,  where  he  took  the  degree  of  M.A.  in  1876.  While  still 
at  college  he  commenced  his  career  as  a  journalist  by  becoming 
leader-writer  to  a  very  enterprising  and  cleverly-conducted  little 
daily,  "The  Edinburgh  Evening  News,"  for  which  he  also  wrote 
dramatic  criticisms.  He  retained  his  connection  with  this  paper 
from  1875  to  1878,  with  the  interruption  of  a  visit  in  1876-7  to 
Australia,  with  which  his  family  is  connected,  his  father  having  been 
Agent  General  for  Queensland  in  this  country.  In  1877  Mr.  Archer, 
in  conjunction  with  Mr.  R.  W.  Lowe,  one  of  his  coadjutors  on  "  The 
Edinburgh  Evening  News,"  published  "  The  Fashionable  Tragedian," 
a  pamphlet  upon  Mr.  Irving,  illustrated  by  Mr.  G.  R.  Halkett, 
which  attracted  considerable  attention.  From  May,  1879,  to 
October,  1881,  he  acted  as  dramatic  critic  of  the  London  "Figaro," 
then  under  the  editorship  of  Mr.  James  Mortimer.  He  left  the 
"  Figaro,"  to  spend  a  year  in  Italy  and  Germany  ;  and  in  the  autumn 
of  1882  he  published  his  chief  critical  work,  "  English  Dramatists  of 
To-Day."  It  was  followed,  in  1883,  by  an  elaborate  criticism  of  Mr. 
Irving,  entitled  "Henry  Irving,  Actor  and  Manager:  A  Critical 
Study."  Though  Mr.  Archer  stated  his  position  as  one  of  "rational 


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXVXWWXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

; 


It  seems  so  funny 

That  it  makes  me  grin." 

OLIVER  GKUMBLK 


FROM    A   PHOTOGRAPH    SPECIALLY   TAKEN    FOR    "THE  THEATRE"  BY    BARRAUD,    263,  OXFORD 

STREET,   Vf 


xxxxxxxxi 


LXXXXXXXXXXXX, 


"  The  lyte  so  short,  the  craft  so  long  to  lerne." 

<  ;i  \T(  I..K. 


FROM    A    PHOTOGRAPH    bl'EClALLY   TAKEN    FOR    "THE  THEATRE"    BY    BARKAUD,    263,  OXFORD 

STREET,    W. 


MAY  i,  1886.]  OUR    OMNIBUS-BOX.  28l 

appreciation  "  of  Mr.  Irving's  powers,  his  "  Critical  Study  "  was  lr,. 
upon  by  the  ardent  admirers  of  the  actor  as  little  short  of  an  outr. 
and  Mr.  Frank  Marshall  published  a  counterblast—"  A   Criticism  cf 
a  Critic's   Criticism:    By  an    Irvingitc."      In    1883  Mr.    Archer  was 
called  to  the   Bar  at  the   Middle   Temple,  and   in   March,   1884,  ho 
succeeded  the  late  Dutton  Cook  as  dramatic  critic  of  "  The  World," 
In  addition  to  his  work  in  "The  World,"  he  is  largely  engaged  in 
general  journalistic  work,  and  is  a  frequent  contributor  totherc\ 
and  magazines.     A  collection  of  his  magazine  articles,    v/ith  a  pre- 
liminary essay  designed  as  a  supplement  to  his  "  English  Dramati 
is  shortly  to  appear  under  the  title  of  "  About  the  Theatre :  Essays 
and  Studies." 


Is  it  not  extraordinary  that  such  a  quatrain  as  this  should  be  publi.she  1 
and  printed  every  day  in  the  papers,  in  order  apparently  to  torture  our  ears 
and  set  our  teeth  on  edge  : — 

'Twas  thought  that  burlesque's  sacred  lamp  was  burnt  out, 

But  you  mustn't  believe  all  you  hear, 
For  Little  Jack  Sheppard  has  proved  beyond  doubt, 

That  'tis  still  shining  brilliantly  here. 

It  matters  little  whether  this  stanza  was  composed  by  Mr.  Yardley  or  Mr. 
Stephens  or  Mr.  Cunningham  Bridgman,  or  all  three,  but  one  of  t'ae 
three  surely  knows  that  under  no  conceivable  circumstances  could  "  /# j/  " 
rhyme  with  •'  here."  What  do  the  three  say  as  an  amendment  to  : — 

"  It  is  shining  here,  still !  Never  fear  !  " 

Burlesque  is  not  shining  at  the  Gaiety  at  all,  but  comic  opera  ;  that  is  all 
the  more  reason  that  Cockney  rhymes  should  be  avoided. 

A  warm  welcome  has  already  been  extended  to  the  English  version 
of  Gustave  Flaubert's  "  Salammbo,"  just  published  by  Messrs. 
Saxon  and  Co.,  and  there  can  be  but  little  doubt  that  further  popular 
success  is  in  store  for  this  masterly  tale  ol  love  and  war,  this  grand, 
moving  description  of  the  fierce,  sensuous  love  of  Matho,  the  Libyan 
chief,  for  Salammbo,  the  daughter  of  Hamilcar.  It  is  one  of  the  finest 
romances  of  the  century.  This  version,  the  only  authorised  English 
translation,  by  the  way,  has  been  admirably  rendered  from  the  French 
by  M.  French  Sheldon,  and  it  is  prefaced  by  a  scholarly  introduction 
from  the  pen  of  Edward  King. 


Although  "The  Private  Secretary"  has  at  last  ceased  running  at 
the  Globe,  country  audiences  do  not  seem  to  have  yet  tired  of  this 
piece.  There  are  no  less  than  three  companies  playing  the  adapta- 
tion of  "  Der  Bibliothekar"  in  the  provinces.  I  recently  chanced  to 
witness  the  performance  of  the  play  at  Richmond  by  Mr.  Hawtrey's 
11  C  "  company,  and  was  struck  by  the  manner  in  which  the  audience 
appreciated  the  comedy,  and  the  general  effectiveness  of  the  repre- 
NEW  SERIES. — VOL.  VII.  V 


282  THE    THEATRE.  [MAY  ,,  ,886. 

sentation.  The  latter  result  was  greatly  due  to  the  efforts  of  Mr. 
Richard  Dalton,  an  experienced  and  excellent  stage-manager,  and  a 
capital  Mr.  Marsland.  The  Spalding  of  Mr.  A.  Whittaker  was 
vastly  amusing,  and  Mr.  H.  Williams  was  admirable  as  Cattermole. 
The  Douglas  Cattermole  of  Mr.  F.  C.  Glover  was  easy  and  gentle- 
manlike, while  the  Gibson  of  Mr.  F.  Tyrell  was  quite  good.  A  better 
Miss  Ashford  than  that  of  Miss  Bella  Cuthbert  could  not  be  desired. 
Miss  Marie  Brewer  acted  uncommonly  well  as  Mrs.  Stead  ;  while 
bright  and  pretty  representatives  of  the  two  girls  were  found  in  Miss 
Dunbar  and  Miss  V.  Noad. 


I  have  received  the  following  from  an  enthusiastic  member  of  the 
"Shelley  Society,"  who  is  naturally  anxious  for  the  success  of  the 
proposed  performance  of  "  The  Cenci  "  on  May  7  : — At  last  it  is 
decided  to  give  a  representation  of  Shelley's  powerful  tragedy,  and  in 
spite  of  here  and  there  a  discordant  critical  note,  we  believe  that  the 
decision  is  one  which  will  be  acceptable  to  all  lovers  of  art,  to  all  who 
desire  to  give  to  the  classic  drama  something  of  the  ascendency  which  it 
has  in  Germany,  where,  not  the  works  of  Goethe  alone,  but  those  of 
Shakespeare,  Schiller,  and  Lessing  appear  in  regular  succession  on  the 
stage.  Granted  that  Shelley's  "  Cenci  "  be,  as  Mr.  Swinburne  has  said, 
'•the  one  great  play  written  in  the  great  manner  of  Shakespeare's  men 
that  our  literature  has  seen  since  the  time  of  these,"  it  would  seem  strange 
that  we  should  have  had  to  wait  more  than  half  a  century  for  a  public 
representation,  were  it  not  that  until  Mr.  Irving  took  him  by  the  hand 
Shakespeare  spelt  bankruptcy  to  our  theatrical  managers,  and  that  even 
now  no  attempt  seems  to  be  made  to  produce  "  King  Lear,"  the  acknow- 
ledged masterpiece  of  our  great  poet. 

Guido's  portrait,  we  now  know,  is  not  Beatrice  Cenci.  The  Cenci 
legend  has  also  gone  the  way  of  others  of  equal  interest  under  the  critical 
examination  of  Signer  Bertoletti  ("  Francesco  Cenci  e  la  sua  famiglia," 
Florence,  1877),  yet  inasmuch  as  many  generations  have  gazed  with  tender 
sympathy  upon  the  portrait  in  the  Palazzo  Barberini,  and  have  called  up 
the  story  which  inspired  Shelley,  it  is  to  the  eternal  glory  of  the  author 
of  the  "Prometheus  Unbound"  that  he  should  have  used  these  coarse 
and  realistic  materials,  and  have  surrounded  them  with  ennobling  and 
elevating  thoughts.  Who  shall  say  that  the  character  of  Beatrice — lovely, 
girlish,  her  innocence  unsmirched  by  the  vileness  of  an  execrable  father, 
and  developed  into  premature  womanhood  by  her  hard,  sad  life — is  not 
one  of  the  healthiest  influences  in  literature  ?  Incest  may  be  a  hideous 
foundation  upon  which  to  build  up  a  tragedy,  not  more  hideous  we 
venture  to  think  than  the  foundation  upon  which  the  great  woman  singer 
of  our  age  has  built  the  poem  of  "  Aurora  Leigh  ; "  yet  the  story  was 
there,  it  had  been  written  and  talked  of  unreservedly,  and  when  used,  not 
in  a  realistic,  but  essentially  in  an  idealistic  spirit,  with  none  of  the  grim 
humour  with  which  Carlyle  talks  of  the  "  Beelzebub  Parent- Lover,"  in  his 
'*  Friedrich,"  but  to  make  vice  seem  more  viciou?,  purity  and  truth  still 


MAY  i,  1886.]  OUR  OMNIBUS-BOX.  283 

more  pure  and  true.  It  is  impossible  not  to  rejoice  that  Shelley  has 
selected  such  a  theme,  and  that  his  admirers  have  determined  to  give 
it  a  wider  currency. 

Analysis  of  the  play  we  must  reserve  for  another  occasion,  contenting 
ourselves  here  merely  by  referring  to  the  high  credit  which  is  due  to  the 
much-abused  literary  societies — and  the  new  English  Goethe  Society 
promises  still  more  in  the  same  direction — in  as  far  as  they  give  actors  an 
opportunity  of  appearing  in  dramas  for  which  the  public  as  a  whole  have 
scarcely  sufficient  inclination  to  tempt  a  manager  to  give  continuous  runs  ; 
such  plays,  we  mean  as  Mr.  Browning's  "  In  a  Balcony  "  and  "  Columbe" 
Birthday,"  and  now  in  Shelley's  "  Cenci  "  and  "  Hellas."  These  might 
well  be  followed  by  a  constant  interchange  with  Moliere,  Goethes 
Schiller,  Lessing,  and,  above  all,  with  the  less  frequently  acted  of  Shake- 
speare's dramas.  And,  ultimately,  a  theatre  entirely  devoted  to  classical 
art  would  be  a  very  interesting  monument  to  the  enthusiasm  of  literary 
societies.  To  Dr.  Furnivall  shall  be  all  the  praise  ! 

The  coming  performance  will  take  place  on  the  yth  of  May,  at  2  p.m., 
at  the  Grand  Theatre,  Islington,  which  was  selected,  we  believe,  as  being 
the  only  building  of  adequate  capacity  which  was  available,  but  which 
will  serve  the  additional  purpose  of  showing  lovers  of  the  drama  from 
other  parts  of  London  what  a  magnificient  theatre  the  North  can  boast  on 
the  site  of  the  modest  Philharmonic,  so  well  known  in  the  days  of  the 
"  Grand  Duchess  "  and  "  Genevieve  de  Brabant."  Of  course,  no  money 
can  be  taken,  the  play  not  having  been  licensed,  and  onlymembers  of  the 
Shelley  Society  and  their  friends  can  obtain  admission.  The  Hon  Sec. 
is  Sydney  E.  Preston,  Esq.,  88,  Eaton  Place,  S.W.  Membership  of  the 
society,  includes,  we  understand,  not  only  tickets  for  this  performance, 
and  for  Shelley's  *'  Hellas,"  in  November,  but  also  a  number  of  choicely 
bound  volumes  of  the  poet's  works  ;  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the 
building  will  be  filled  to  its  utmost  capacity,  and  especially  when  we 
mention — and  it  is  not  the  least  important  feature — the  admirable  cast 
which  has  been  gathered  together  to  do  honour  to  Shelley's  tragedy.  Mr. 
Hermann  Vezin  will  perform — how  adequately  we  can  all  conceive — the 
part  of  the  Count,  insatiable  and  remorseless.  Mr.  Leonard  S.  Outram 
will  undertake  the  difficult  and  delicate  task  of  pourtraying  Orsino,  the 
loveless  lover  of  Beatrice.  Mr.  William  Farren,  junr.,  will  act  the  friendly 
Cardinal  Camillo.  The  Countess  Lucretia,  Cenci's  second  wife,  and 
Beatrice's  step-mother,  will  be  personated  by  Miss  Maud  Brennen,  and  the 
part  of  the  unfortunate  heroine,  the  sweet  and  spotless  girl  around  whom 
so  much  of  the  interest  of  the  play  centres,  will  be  taken  by  Miss  Alma 
Murray,  who  has  already  won  enthusiastic  applause  by  her  rendering  of  the 
last  scene  of  the  tragedy  before  the  London  Wagner  Society. 

With  a  play  so  beset  with  difficulties,  failure  is  possible,  even  to  such 
artists  as  these,  especially  as  they  have  no  precedents  to  guide  them ; 
but  we  do  not  anticipate  failure,  and  offer  our  hearty  good  wishes  for  the 
performance  on  the  yth,  at  which,  by  the  way,  Mr.  Robert  Browning  has 
promised  to  be  present. 


V   2 


284  THE    THEATRE.  [MAY  i,  1886. 

Mr.  Alexander  Watson's  Recital  at  Steinway  Hall,  on  March  31, 
proved  very  interesting  and  successful.  The  stage  had  been  most 
tastefully  decorated  with  screens,  flowers,  statues,  etc.,  giving  it  the 
appearance  of  a  drawing-room,  and  so  disguising  the  shabbiness  so 
noticeable  of  late  in  this  Hall.  To  a  gentlemanly  bearing  Mr.  Watson 
adds  the  great  quality  of  being  perfectly  simple  and  natural  in  manner 
and  delivery,  a  quality  not  so  common  as  one  might  think.  He  is 
earnest  in  striving  to  get  at  the  author's  true  meaning,  and  generally 
succeeds  in  doing  so.  The  present  programme  contained  the  follow- 
ing items  :  "  The  Charge  of  the  Heavy  Brigade,"  by  Tennyson,  well 
rendered;  "Early  Rising  :  An  Incident  of  the  Old  Coaching  Days,'' 
by  John  Pool,  slightly  altered  for  recitation,  was  excellent — it  was 
given  with  great  ease,  and  not  a  point  lost ;  and  "  Bill  Gibbon's 
Deliverance,"  by  the  late  Arthur  Matthison,  was  equally  good.  Next 
came  "The  Enchanted  Net,''  by  F.  E.  Smedley  ;  this  piece,  which  is 
something  in  the  style  of  the  Ingoldsby  Legends,  also  slightly  altered, 
received  very  quaint  treatment  from  Mr.  Watson,  and  he  showed  great 
feeling  in  the  Dotheboys  Hall  selection,  which  closed  the  first  part. 
"  Charles  Edward  at  Versailles,"  by  Aytoun,  opened  the  second  part, 
and  Le  Fanu's  "Shamus  O'Brien"  followed;  this  was  good,  but 
hardly  spirited  enough.  "  Ferdinando  and  Elvira"  was  not  quite  given 
in  the  true  Gilbertian  vein.  But  in  "  The  Flight  of  Little  Em'ly" 
Mr.  Watson  showed  great  depth  of  pathos  ;  specially  good  was  Peg- 
gotty,  but  the  whole  scene  was  good  and  true.  He  crowned  this  very 
successful  recital  by  an  excellent  rendering  of  "Jud  Browning's 
Account  of  Rubenstein's  Piano."  It  was  delivered  with  much  light 
and  shade,  and  altogether  I  congratulate  Mr.  Alexander  Watson  on 
the  rapid  strides  he  has  made  since  I  first  mentioned  his  already  very 
good  power  of  recitation  in  THE  THEATRE  three  years  ago. 


The  second  and  third  dramatic  recital  of  the  series  given  by  Mr. 
Edward  Watts-Russell,  at  the  Westminster  Town  Hall,  came  off  on 
April  12  and  19.  On  each  occasion  the  programme  was  varied  and 
interesting.  Mr.  Watts -Russell's  repertory  is  an  extensive  one,  and 
he  seems  popular  with  his  audience.  He  has  a  good  voice,  and  shows 
much  feeling  in  his  recitation  ;  but  he  is  rather  heavy,  given  to  long 
pauses,  and  an  occasional  hesitation  in  his  delivery.  A  display  of 
real  emotion  is  very  effective  in  some  pieces,  if  it  is  under  control, 
not  otherwise.  Mr.  Watts-Russell  should  strive  to  master  his 
feelings.  In  Tennyson's  "Guinevere"  he  gave  King  Arthur's  lines 
very  pathetically,  and  with  tears  in  his  voice  ;  this  was  good ;  but 
when,  Arthur's  speech  being  concluded,  the  reciter  gave  the  following 
bit  of  simple  narrative  in  the  same  broken  tones  the  effect  was  quite 
spoilt.  Sporting  pieces,  such  as  "  Dream  of  an  Old  Meltonian  "  and 
"  How  we  Beat  the  Favourite,"  seem  to  waken  him  into  a  display  of 
more  spirit ;  but  he  lacks  sufficient  power  for  "  Horatius "  or 
Wolsey's  speech  in  "  Henry  VIII."  His  rendering  of  "  Rubinstein' 


MAY  i,  1886.]  OUR    OMNIBUS-BOX.  285 

Piano ''  is  satisfactory,  but,  as  a  rule,  Mr.  Watts-Russell  allows  his 
comic  pieces  to  drag.  He  should  try  to  avoid  this,  and  also  a 
marked  tendency  to  being  too  lachrymose. 


On  April  17,  at  St.  George's  Hall,  the  Owl  Dramatic  Society  gave 
their  services  for  the  benefit  of  the  North  London  Nursing  Association 
for  the  Poor.  Henry  Byron's  domestic  drama,  "  Daisy  Farm,"  was 
given  by  desire,  so  it  was  stated.  This  play,  by  no  means  one  of  the 
author's  best,  was,  on  the  whole,  well  rendered.  As  Andrew  Armstrong, 
Mr.  Frank  Hole  was  a  little  out  of  his  element ;  but  he  did  very  well,  and 
was  free  from  exaggeration.  Mr.  Sydney  Wallace  acted  well  as  Charley 
Burridge,  but  in  the  last  he  appeared  far  too  happy  and  comfortable 
for  a  man  who  has  just  confessed  a  crime,  even  though  he  be  forgiven. 
The  Simeon  Cole  of  Mr.  Eaton  Ferrers  was  abominable.  The 
assumed  voice,  preventing  a  single  word  from  being  distinctly  heard, 
the  stagey  gesture — all,  in  fact,  was  exaggerated  to  the  utmost  limit. 
In  contrast  to  this,  the  small  part  of  George  Warriner  found  a 
perfect  representative  in  Mr.  R.  Vincent  Hughes  ;  this  little  bit  of 
character-acting  could  not  have  been  improved  upon.  Mr.  Arthur 
W.  Hughes,  made  up  to  look  as  much  like  the  late  Henry  Byron  as 
possible,  was  well  fitted  with  the  part  of  Mr.  Craven ;  he  was  cool 
and  incisive,  and  the  undercurrent  of  good  nature  was  sufficiently 
indicated.  As  the  tramp,  Mr.  Sydney  Barrett  was  very  good.  Miss 
Harriette  Nichols  misunderstood  the  part  of  Cribbage;  her  mincing 
tones  and  affected  manner  would  have  been  well  suited  to  a  London 
servant,  but  were  entirely  out  of  place  in  a  rustic  maid.  Miss  Nina 
Cressy  was  an  excellent  Bridget  Armstrong ;  she  showed  earnestness 
throughout,  and  some  real  power  in  the  last  act.  The  cast  included 
Miss  Cissy  St.  George,  Mr.  Francis  Darnley,  Mr.  Chas.  Thomson, 
Mr.  C.  J.  Nun,  Mr.  C.  Stevenson,  and  Mr.  C.  G.  Graves.  All  were 
letter  perfect,  and  the  performance  went  off  very  smoothly.  One 
accident  occurred  though,  and  a  rather  awkward  one.  The  curtain 
came  down  unexpectedly  in  the  middle  of  the  scene  of  "  The  Lover's 
Leap,"  and  had  to  be  raised  again.  This  tableau  is  quite  superfluous, 
and  the  play  would  be  all  the  better  for  its  being  left  out. 


Our  Melbourne  correspondent  writes  : — "  The  past  two  months  have 
not  been  marked  by  much  change  in  either  the  musical  or  dramatic 
world.  The  pantomime  of  "The  Sleeping  Beauty"  at  the  Theatre 
Royal  ran  until  February  19.  On  the  following  night  Messrs.  Gilbert 
and  Sullivan's  last  opera,  "  The  Mikado,"  was  presented  in  the  usual 
complete  and  effective  manner  common  to  all  productions  at  this 
theatre.  Miss  Nellie  Stewart  is  the  Yum  Yum  ;  Mr.  Woodfield, 
Pooh  Bah  ;  Mr.  Howard  Vernon,  Ko  Ko ;  and  Mr.  John  Forde,  the 
Mikado.  Miss  Alice  Barnett  made  her  first  appearance  in  this  opera 
as  Katisha,  and  Mr.  Alfred  Celliertook  his  seat  for  the  first  time  in  the 
conductor's  comfortable  arm-chair  on  the  opening  night.  Both  have 


286  THE    THEATRE.  [MAY  i,  1886. 

been  overwhelmed  with  praise  for  their  highly- appreciated  efforts  in 
their  lines.  Mr.  Geo.  Rignold  closed  his  Opera  House  season  by 
playing  "  In  the  Ranks"  for  one  week.  On  January  29,  he  benefited 
in  the  same  drama.  He  then  took  his  company  to  Sydney,  where 
"  Called  Back"  was  produced  at  the  Theatre  Royal,  on  February  13, 
and  had  a  good  three  weeks  run.  The  Company  are  now  on  their 
way  to  New  Zealand.  On  Saturday,  January  20,  one  of  the  most 
dreadfully  mismanaged  operatic  seasons  I  ever  heard  of  was  opened  at 
the  Opera  House.  The  initial  opera  was  "Madame  L'Archiduc," 
and  the  prima  donna  was  Lottie  Montal,  better  known  as  Madame 
Poressard,  who,  in  her  earlier  days  was  known  in  the  old  Alhambra: 
Within  a  fortnight,  Mdlle.  Montal  was  refused  admission  to  the  theatre, 
bailiffs  held  everything,  and  a  whole  host  of  legal  processes  were 
served  with  charming  impartiality  and  profusion.  The  Company  was 
re-organised,  and  "Boccaccio"  was  revived  on  February  20,  to  re- 
duced prices.  Miss  Annette  Ivanova  is  now  the  leading  soprano  ;  and 
the  opera  has  done  well.  "  Manteaux  Noirs"  will  be  revived  to-mor- 
row. Mr.  Sidney  Grundy's  comedy,  "  The  Glass  of  Fashion,"  was 
produced  at  the  Bijou  Theatre^on  January  2,  but  did  not  create  any 
stir.  "Betsy"  was  then  tried  on  January  23,  with  Miss  Nina  Bouci- 
cault  in  the  title  role,  a  part  she  is  physically  unsuited  for.  "  Dark 
Days"  was  produced  for  the  first  time  on  February  6,  and  attained  a 
fair  position  in  public  favour.  On  February  26,  Boucicault's  comedy, 
"Fobidden  Fruit,"  was  produced,  and  is  now  running.  Mr.  G.  W. 
Anson  made  his  first  appearance  in  it  as  Sergeant  Buster.  He  is  not 
unlikely  to  become  popular  here.  "  Hazel  Kirke"  will  be  the  next 
piece  presented  at  this  house.  Theatrical  matters  in  Sydney  just  now 
are  dull.  John  F.  Sheridan,  known  as  the  manager  of  the  "  Fun  on 
the  Bristol"  Company,  is  playing  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  at  the  Gaiety, 
while  the  other  houses  are  mainly  engaged  in  revivals.  Adelaide  has 
no  theatres  open  as  present.  George  Darrell,  George  Rignold,  Harry 
Rickards,  and  W.  Emmerson  are  on  tour  with  their  companies  in 
New  Zealand.  Mr.  Wybert  Reeve  is  starring  in  Brisbane.  The 
Victoria  and  St.  George's  Halls  in  this  city  are  occupied  by  minstrel 
combinations.  One  of  them  has  played  eighteen  consecutive  weeks 
— a  sure  proof,  I  hope,  that  we  are  not  a  vindictive  people." 


"The  Old  Love  and  the  New,"  Mr.  James  Albery's  version  of  Mr. 
Bronson  Howard's  play,  "The  Banker's  Daughter,"  was  selected  by 
the  Carleton  Dramatic  Club  for  their  final  performance  this  season, 
March  27.  St.  George's  Hall  was  well  filled  by  the  friends  of  the 
Society,  and  the  Hanover  Orchestra,  under  the  direction  of  Mr.  G. 
Glampit,  gave  some  pleasant  music  during  the  entr'actes.  The  per- 
formance was  good  as  a  whole.  Mr.  A.  E.  Drinkwater  was  rather 
heavy  as  John  Stratton,  but  acted  very  well  in  the  scene  where 
husband  and  wife  part.  Harold  Kenyon  found  an  earnest  representa- 
tive in  Mr.  E.  Gordon  Taylor,  and  Mr.  J.  C.  Carstairs  would  have 


MAY  i,  1886.]  OUR    OMNIBUS-BOX.  287 

been  a  good  Westbrook  had  he  known  his  words  better.  Mr.  H.  G. 
Carstairs  made  a  capital  George  Washington  Phipps,  having  formed 
a  correct  idea  of  the  character,  and  not  overdoing  it.  Mr.  John  M 
Powell  has  seldom  been  seen  to  better  advantage  than  as  Le  Comte  de 
Carojac  ;  this  cool,  polished  cynic  was  well  portrayed  by  him  ;  especi- 
ally good  was  the  hauteur  and  scorn  with  which  he  treated  Kenyon, 
when  he  believes  the  latter  refuses  to  fight.  Miss  Ivan  Bristow  was 
pathetic  and  interesting  as  Lillian,  Miss  Holland  was  a  first-rate  Mrs 
Brown,  and  Miss  Cooke,  the  leading  lady  of  The  Glow-worms, 
appeared  to  advantage  as  Aunt  Nancy.  Little  Miss  Florie  Millward 
was  good  as  the  child,  and  Miss  Knewstub  was  the  maid.  The 
remaining  parts  were  satisfactorily  filled  by  Messrs.  H.  L.  Smiles,  H. 
Weden  Cooke,  W.  Christie,  and  A.  H.  Beard. 


Another  splendid  book  has  been  added  to  the  theatrical  library  by 
Mr.  Austin  Brereton,  one  of  the  most  patient  and  accurate  of  young 
stage  historians,  ready  to  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  such  authorities 
ao  E.  L.  Blanchard,  Dutton  Cook,  Moy  Thomas,  and  Joseph  Knight. 
Mr.  Brereton's  last  contribution  to  dramatic  literature,  recently  pub- 
lished by  the  eminent  firm  of  Cassell  and  Co.,  is  called  "  Shake- 
spearean Plays  and  Characters."  All  the  principal  plays  are  superbly 
illustrated,  and  to  each  picture  Mr.  Brereton  has  added  a  descriptive 
text,  giving  the  history  of  the  play  under  discussion,  and  any  remark- 
able and  interesting  points  connected  with  any  actor,  or  scene,  or 
character  with  this  particular  play.  Mr.  Brereton's  learning  takes  a 
wide  range,  and  extends  from  Betterton  to  Irving,  to  whom  the 
author  appropriately  dedicates  this  handsome  and  useful  volume. 
Exigencies  of  space  have  no  doubt  crippled  the  author.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  state  in  a  page  or  so  of  text  the  various  interesting  anecdotes 
and  traditions  connected  with  the  most  popular  acting  plays  of  Shake- 
speare. But  considering  the  limit  allowed  to  the  author,  Mr.  Brereton 
has  done  his  work  remarkably  well,  and  we  hope  that  Messrs.  Cassell 
will  see  their  way  to  issuing  a  cheaper  edition,  and  will  encourage 
the  author  to  amplify  the  existing  text.  We  have  the  foundation  here 
for  a  very  valuable  work  indeed.  Mr.  Brereton's  style  is  even,  tem- 
perate, and  agreeable  ;  his  criticisms  are  just  and  discriminating;  his 
judgments  are  never  marred  by  the  hot  enthusiasm  of  youth,  and  he 
writes  with  remarkable  firmness  and  sobriety  for  one  so  young.  The 
drawing-room  table  and  the  library  bookshelves  are  the  gainers  by 
Mr.  Brereton's  new  book. 


288  THE    THEATRE.  [MAY  i,  1886. 

New   plays   produced,    and    important   revivals,  in   London,   the 
provinces,  and  Paris,  from  March  25  to  April  19,  1886  : — 

(Revivals  are  marked  thus  *.) 

LONDON : 

March  27  "  The  Schoolmistress,"  an  original  farce,  in  three  acts,  by  A.  W. 
Pinero.  Court  Theatre. 

,,         30      "  On    Tour,"    comedietta,    by    James     Mortimer.       Strand 

Theatre. 

April  3  "Jim,  the  Penman,"  drama,  by  Sir  Charles  L.  Young.  Hay- 
market.  (Originally  acted  at  the  same  theatre  on  the  after- 
noon of  March  25.) 

,,          8      "A  United  Pair,"  comedietta,  by  J.  Comyns  Carr.  St.  George's 
Hall. 

,,         12      "  Sophia,"   comedy,    in    four     acts,    by    Robert    Buchanan, 
founded  on  Fielding's  "  Tom  Jones."     Vaudeville  Theatre. 

,,         20      "  Veracity,"  farcical  comedy,  in  three  acts,  by  Walter  Parke. 
Gaiety  Theatre.     (Matinee — single  performance.) 

PROVINCES  : 

March       25      "  Passion's   Power,"  drama,  by  G.  H.  Shirley.     New  Cross 

Public  Hall. 
April       5      "Racing,"  new  and  original  drama,   in  five  acts,  by  G.  H. 

Macdermott.     Star  Theatre,  Wolverhampton. 
,,          9     "  False  Lights,"  original  drama,  in  four  acts,  by  J.  B.  Bannister. 

Theatre  Royal,  Birkenhead. 
„          15      "The  Chicks,"  farcical  comedy,  by  W.  F.  Field.      Beach's 

Hall  of  Varieties,  Brentford. 
,,         19      "  Too  Much  Married,"  farcical  comedy,  in  three  acts,  by  Mark 

Melford.     Grand  Theatre,  Glasgow. 

PARIS  : 
March     22     "  Modele,"    one-act    comedy  in  verse,    by    Pierre   Barbier. 

Odeon. 

,,          ,,      "  Phalene,"  one-act  ballet.     Eden. 
,,         25      "La  Benediction    des   Poignards,"  comedy-bouffe,  in  three 

acts,  by  MM.  Hippolyte  Raymond  and  Rambert.     Cluny. 
,,        28*     "  Doit-on  le  dire?"  comedy,  in  three  acts,  by  MM.  Labiche 

and  Duru.     Cluny. 
„         29*     tl  Fedora,''   drama,  in  four  acts,  by  Victorien  Sardou.      Porte 

St.  Martin. 
,,        30*    "Serge  Panine,"   drama,    in  five  acts,   by    Georges  Ohnet. 

Gymnase. 
,,        31      "  Plutus,"  comic  opera,   in  three  acts,  libretto  by  MM.  Albert 

Millaud  and   Gaston    Jollivet,    music    by     Charles    Lecocq. 

Opera  Comique. 

April       i.      "LesMenages  de  Paris,"   comedy,  in  five  acts  and  six  tab- 
leaux, by  MM.  Hippolyte  Raymond,  Paul  Burani,  andMaxime 

Boucheron.     Nations. 

„          f     "  Paris  qui  Pleure,"  drama,  in  five  acts  and  six  tableaux,  by 
Xavier  Bertrand.     Chateau  'd'Eau. 


MAY  i,  1886.]  OUR  OMNIBUS-BOX.  289 

April  3*  "  Le  Club,"  comedy,  in  three  acts,  by  MM.  Edmond  Gondinet 

and  Felix  Cohen.  Vaudeville. 

,,  3  "  Les  Grandes  Demoiselles,"  comedy,  in  one  act,  by  Edmond 
Gondinet.  Vaudeville. 

,,  ,,*  "  Le  Cabinet  Piperlin,"  comedy-bouffe,  in  three  acts,  by  MM. 
Hippolyte  Raymond  and  Paul  Burani.  Cluny. 

,,  8*  "  Les  Dominos  Roses,"  comedy,  in  three  acts,  by  MM.  Dela- 
courand  Hennequin.  Renaissance. 

„  9  "Chamillac,"  comedy,  in  five  acts,  by  Octave  Feuillet. 

Thdatre  Fran^ais. 

,,  10  "  Les  Poches  des  Autres,"  comedy,  in  one  act,  by  Maurice 
Hennequin.  Dejazet. 

„  „*  "Les  Trois  Chapeaux,"  comedy,  in  three  acts,  by  Alfred  Henne- 
quin. Dej'azet. 

,,  14  "  Le  Songe  d'uneNuit  d'Et<5,"  J 'eerie,  in  three  acts  and  eight 
tableaux,  in  verse  and  in  prose,  by  Paul  Meurice,  from  Shake- 
speare's "  Midsummer  Night's  Dream.  Ode'on. 

,,  16  "  Monsieur  Irma,"  comedy,  in  one  act,  by  Maurice  Hennequin. 
Renaissance. 

,,  19*  "  Le  Songe  d'une  Nuit  d'Etd,"  comic  opera,  in  three  acts, 
libretto  by  MM.  Rosier  and  De  Leuven,  music^by  Ambroise 
Thomas.  Opera  Comique. 

,,  19  "  Monsieur  de  Crac,"  f eerie,  in  four  acts  and  twenty-five  tab- 
leaux, by  MM.  Ernest  Blum  and  Raoul  Tochd.  Chatelet. 

,,  20  "  Le  Bonheur  Conjugal,"  comedy,  in  three  acts,  by  Albin 
Valabrcgue.  Gymnase. 

,,  21*  "  Patrie,"  historical  drama  in  five  acts  and  eight  tableaux,  by 
Victorien  Sardou.  Porte-St.-Martin. 

,,  22  "La  Perche,"  comedy-vaudeville  in  three  acts,  by  M.M.  Jules 
Prevel  and  Gaston  Marot.  Palais-Royal^j 


ago  THE    THEATRE.  [MAY  i,  1886. 


A  Ballad  of  Fortune. 

..."  the  sparse  overflow 
Of  Fortune's  horn."  MORTIMER  COLLINS. 

I. 

SHE  wears  a  bandage  o'er  her  eyes, 
And  ever  whirls  a  gilded  wheel, 
With  scorn  she  hears  the  aching  sighs 
Of  those  who  round  her  altars  kneel ; 
She  flouts  them  for  the  pangs  they  feel, 

And  frowns  severe  should  they  upraid — 
Ah,  me  !  the  truth  I  must  reveal, 
Dame  Fortune  is  a  fickle  jade. 

n. 
I,  too,  have  worshipped  at  her  shrine, 

And  watched  her  restless  wheel  go  round  ; 
On  some  she  smiles  with  love  benign, 

With  laurel  wreaths  their  heads  are  crowned ; 
While  others,  kneeling  on  the  ground, 

In  vain  implore  her  magic  aid — 
Alas  !  I,  too,  the  truth  have  found, 

Dame  Fortune  is  a  fickle  jade. 

in. 
Why  was  not  Fortune  made  a  man, 

And  not  a  woman,  light  and  free  ; 
For,  if  'twere  so,  our  life's  brief  span 

Would  be  less  full  of  misery  ; 
Such  foolish  freaks  as  those  we  see 

Would  surely  then  be  never  played — 
Alas  !  I  fear  this  cannot  be, 

Dame  Fortune  is  a  fickle  jade. 

ENVOI. 
My  Prince,  in  every  line  of  life, 

The  law,  the  stage,  and  even  trade, 
We  find  that  this  remark  is  rife — 
Dame  Fortune  is  a  fickle  jade. 

FERGUS  W.  HUME, 


THE  THEATRE. 


Hippolyte  Clairon. 

BY  FREDERICK  HAWKINS. 

PART  I. 

IF  an  autobiography  lying  before  me  is  worthy  of  credence,  a 
curious  incident  occurred  at  the  little  town  of  Saint  Wanon 
de  Conde,  near  Cond£,  on  the  north-eastern  frontier  of  France, 
during  the  carnival  of  1723.  In  conformity  with  a  custom  long 
observed  at  this  season,  crowds  of  persons  repaired  to  the  houses 
of  the  wealthiest  inhabitants,  where,  in  conjunction  with  the 
local  clergy,  all  in  masquerade  dress,  they  spent  a  day  in  some- 
what obstreperous  merrymaking.  One  of  the  revellers,  a  semp- 
stress named  Leris,  was  unexpectedly  taken  ill,  and  on  being 
carried  home  was  safely  delivered  of  a  daughter.  Born 
prematurely,  the  child  did  not  seem  likely  to  live  many  hours,  and 
a  pious  relative  determined  to  have  it  baptised  without  delay.  But 
the  church  was  closed  ;  even  the  beadle  had  disappeared.  In  this 
strait  the  relative  heard  that  several  priests  had  gone  to  a 
particular  house,  and  thither  the  little  stranger  was  carried.  In 
the  midst  of  a  motley  gathering,  with  a  band  discoursing  more  or 
less  exhilarating  music,  M.  le  Cure  and  his  vicar  were  disporting 
themselves  as  harlequin  and  clown  respectively.  Finding  the 
case  urgent,  they  turned  a  sideboard  into  a  font,  procured  what 
was  necessary  for  the  ceremony,  ordered  the  musicians  to  stop 
for  a  few  moments,  and,  without  divesting  themselves  of  their 
grotesque  dresses,  gave  the  child  a  "  passport  to  the  skies"  under 
the  names  of  Claire  Joseph  Hippolyte  Latude. 

Before  long,  Mdme.  Leris,   apparently  a  widow,  settled  as  an 
ouvriere  in  Paris,  the  Eldorado  of  rich  and  poor  alike.     It  was  in 

NEW   SERIES.— VOL.    VII.  X 


292  THE   THEATRE.  [JUNE  i,  1886. 

circumstances  hardly  favourable  to  the  cultivation  of  intelligence 
and  tenderness  of  nature  that  Claire  Leris  passed  her  early  life. 
Her  mother  was  ignorant,  violent,  unsympathetic,  cruel.  Few 
ideas  beyond  the  trade  of  a  sempstress  enlarged  the  girl's  mental 
horizon ;  no  gleam  of  maternal  affection  relieved  the  sordid 
misery  by  which  she  was  surrounded  from  the  outset.  Some 
unnamed  friend  taught  her  to  read  and  write  a  little,  but  that 
was  practically  all.  Apart  from  her  Bible  and  church  service,  the 
only  books  she  could  obtain  were  stories  of  ghosts  and  sorcerers, 
in  the  truth  of  which  she  was  led  to  repose  implicit  faith. 
Especially  hard  became  her  lot  when  she  was  deemed  old  enough 
to  take  a  share  in  the  work  of  plying  needle  and  thread  from  morn 
till  dewy  eve.  In  her  own  words,  she  had  a  "  horror  for  the  work 
of  the  hand,"  and  "  could  not  endure  the  thought  of  being  only  an 
ouvriere."  For  this  reason  she  did  not  respond  to  her  mother's 
expectations  ;  threats  and  blows  were  rained  upon  her  with  a 
resolution  equal  to  her  own,  and  her  existence  was  made  as 
wretched  as  that  of  the  most  unfortunate  waif  and  stray  in  the 
slums  of  the  city. 

In  the  midst  of  this  misery,  at  the  age  of  eleven,  she  happened 
to  witness  a  scene  which  did  much  to  determine  her  future  career. 
Mdme.  Leris  moved  to  a  house  exactly  opposite    Mdlle.  Dange- 
ville's,  and  Claire  was  often  shut  up  in  a  dreary  front  room  as  a 
punishment   for    her    obstinate    disregard    of    the    dignity   and 
importance  of  labour.     From  the  window  here,  standing  upon  a 
chair,  she  once  saw  the  "  idol  of  the  parterre,"  of  whom  she  had 
never  heard,  take  a  dancing  lesson  in  the  presence  of  her  family, 
with  evidences  of  material  comfort  about  her  on  every  side.  "  No 
charm  that  nature  and  youth  could  supply,"  writes  the  spectator 
"  was  wanting  in  her.      My  very  being  came  into  my  eyes  ;  I  lost 
none  of  her  movements.     Her  exercise  finished,  the  throng  about 
her  burst  into  applause,  while   her  mother  embraced  her  in   a 
transport  of  affectionate  pride.     How  much  her  fate  differed  from 
mine !     I  was  seized  with  a  profound  emotion  ;  my  tears  would 
not  let  me  see  any  more.     I  left  the  window,  and  when  I  returned 
to  it,  the  whole  group  had  disappeared." 

For  some  weeks,  fearing  that  by  avowing  her  experience  she 
would  prevent  its  renewal,  the  forlorn  girl  wisely  kept  her  secret. 
Meanwhile,  she  knew  no  pleasure  save  that  of  being  sent  en 
penitence  to  the  room  in  question.  "  Happily,"  she  writes,  "  my 


JUNE  i,  1886.]  HIPPOLYTE    CLAIRON.  293 

mother's  business  or  bad  temper  condemned  me  to  it  rather  fre- 
quently. I  then  flew  to  the  window ;  the  weather  was  in  my 
favour.  I  saw  to  the  furthest  corner  of  the  chamber  of  my 
divinity.  I  observed  her  as  closely  as  possible,  afterwards  imitat- 
ing all  she  had  done.  My  memory  and  application  were  such 
that  those  who  came  to  the  house  believed  I  had  received  instruc- 
tion from  masters.  My  deportment  was  no  longer  the  same  ;  new 
ideas  developed  themselves  in  my  mind."  Even  her  mother,  as 
though  to  show  that  she  was  not  an  anomaly  in  the  history  of  the 
human  heart,  began  to  testify  some  satisfaction  in  the  growing 
intelligence  and  grace  of  her  ill-treated  offspring.  Presently, 
anxious  to  know  what  her  divinity  was,  Mdlle.  Leris  took  into 
her  confidence  a  man  who  occasionally  looked  in,  and  who  had 
won  her  goodwill  by  not  treating  her  exactly  as  a  child.  He 
at  once  set  her  cusiosity  at  rest,  at  the  same  time  giving  her 
a  description  of,  and  promising  to  take  her  to,  the  Comcdie 
Fran9aise.  Mdme.  Leris,  taught  to  believe  that  theatrical  enter- 
tainments made  one  of  the  many  roads  to  perdition,  sternly  set 
her  face  against  the  redemption  of  this  promise,  but  was  even- 
tually prevailed  upon  to  give  way. 

"  Le  Comte  d'Essex  "  and  "  Les  Folies  Amoureuses  "  composed 
the  programme  on  the  evening  selected  for  Claire's  first  visit  to  a 
playhouse.  "  It  is  not  in  my  power,"  she  says,  "  to  tell  you  what 
then  passed  in  my  mind.  I  only  know  that  during  the  perform- 
ance and  the  rest  of  the  evening  I  could  not  be  made  to  eat  or 
articulate  a  word.  '  Beast,  go  to  bed  !'  was  all  that  I  heard  after 
my  return  home.  Instead  of  going  to  bed,  however,  I  set  myself 
to  repeat  what  had  been  said  and  to  imitate  what  had  been  done  at 
the  theatre.  On  the  morrow,  I  confounded  those  who  listened  to 
me  by  reciting  a  hundred  lines  of  the  tragedy  and  two  tiers  of  the 
afterpiece.  But  this  feat  of  memory  created  less  astonishment 
than  the  way  in  which  I  seized  the  pecularities  of  each  player.  I 
lisped  like  Grandval  ;  I  stammered  like  Poisson ;  I  managed 
to  illustrate  the  air  fin  of  Mdlle.  Dangeville,"  the  most  sparkling 
of  Lisettes  ;  "  and  the  air  roide  ct  froid  of  Mdlle.  Balicourt.  In  a 
word,  I  was  regarded  as  a  prodigy.  On  the  other  hand,  my 
mother  declared  with  a  frown  that  it  would  be  better  if  I  learnt  to 
make  a  dress  or  chemise  than  think  of  such  trumpery.  At  these 
words  I  lost  control  of  myself.  I  said  I  would  not  be  a  semp- 
stress, as  I  wished  to  go  on  the  stage.  My  mother  replied  with 

X  2 


294  THE  THEATRE.  [JUNE  i,  1886. 

curses  and  blows,  adding  that  she  would  starve  me  to  death  or 
break  every  bone  in  my  body  unless  I  worked  as  she  did.  '  In 
that  case,'  I  said,  with  all  the  firmness  that  could  be  expected  in 
one  so  young/  you  had  better  kill  me  at  once,  for  I  shall  certainly 
be  an  actress  if  I  live.' ' 

Mdme.  Leris,  moved  to  an  unexpected  display  of  maternal 
tenderness  by  the  reproaches  of  a  neighbour,  acceded  to  her 
daughter's  wishes  on  the  somewhat  difficult  condition  that  by- 
gones should  be  bygones  ;  and  Claire,  having  been  introduced  to 
and  tutored  by  the  actor  Deshais,  appeared  at  the  Comedie 
Italienne  in  the  name  of  Clairon — a  variation  upon  that  0f  Claire 
— as  the  soubrette  in  a  little  comedy  by  Marivaux,  "L'lle  des 
Esclaves,"  originally  produced  there  in  1725.  Barely  twelve 
years  of  age,  of  less  than  medium  height,  but  rejoicing  in  a  voice 
of  unusual  flexibility  and  sweetness,  she  at  once  made  a  mark  in 
juvenile  characters.  "  The  applause  I  received  " — I  again  quote 
from  the  autobiography — "  consoled  my  mother  for  the  course  I 
had  taken.  I  was  provided  with  masters  in  writing,  dancing, 
music,  and  Italian.  My  ardour  and  my  memory  surprised  my 
instructors.  I  devoured  all;  I  retained  all.  But  my  extreme 
youth,  the  smallness  of  my  stature,  a  fear  entertained  by  the 
famous  Thomassin " — an  admirable  Arlequin,  whose  real  name 
was  Antonio  Vicentini,  and  who  died  soon  afterwards — "  that  my 
talents  would  injure  the  prospects,  as  yet  undecided,  of  his 
daughters " — all  this,  combined  with  the  want  of  powerful  in- 
fluence in  her  favour,  forced  her,  at  the  end  of  about  twelve 
months,  to  seek  fortune  elsewhere. 

Lanoue  had  then  entered  into  his  partnership  with  Mdlle. 
Gautier  in  the  management  of  what  was  rather  loosely  called  the 
Rouen  company.  Mdlle.  Clairon  joined  it  to  play  a  few 
parts  in  the  drama  proper,  sing  in  comic  opera,  and  dance  in 
the  ballets,  her  mother,  whose  scruples  were  not  proof  against 
a  sense  of  self-interest,  accompanying  her  as  opener  of  boxes  and 
distributor  of  tickets.  That  the  young  actress-singer  found  much 
encouragement  to  persevere  in  her  self-elected  calling  there  can 
be  little  doubt.  No  one  without  celebrity  is  made  the  subject  of 
a  book,  and  an  honour  of  this  kind  soon  fell  to  her  lot.  Foiled  in 
an  attempt  to  win  her  affections,  a  fellow  player,  Guillard  de 
Labataille,  concocted  a  "  Histoire  de  Mdlle.  Cronel  Cleron,  dite 
Fretillon,  Actrice  de  la  Comedie  de  Rouen,  Ecrite  par  Elle- 


JUNE  i,  1886.]  HIPPOLYTE    CLAIRON.  295 

Meme,"  in  which  she  was  represented  as  having  been  engaged  in 
many  disgraceful  adventures.  It  is  significant  of  the  position  she 
then  occupied  that  this  infamous  libel  ran  through  ten  editions. 
"  I  was  at  Havre,"  she  tells  us,  "  when  it  appeared.  My  anguish 
was  beyond  all  expression.  I  returned  to  Rouen  in  an  agony  of 
apprehension,  but  only  to  find  the  same  public  and  the  same 
friends  as  before."  If  at  this  time  her  private  life  was  above 
reproach,  as  she  asserts  it  to  have  been,  it  soon  presented  oppor- 
tunities to  scandal.  Persistently  urged  by  her  splenetic  mother  to 
espouse  an  old  member  of  the  company — a  persecution  once 
emphasised  by  the  levelling  of  a  pistol  at  her  head — she  sought 
and  found  a  protector  in  a  man  who  could  not  make  her  his  wife. 

Mdlle.  Gautier  and  Lanoue  broke  up  the  troupe  to  make  debuts 
in  Paris  ;  and  Clairon,  then  in  her  twenty-second  year,  with  her 
gifts  so  far  developed  that  Sarrasin,  chancing  to  see  her  play 
Eriphyle,  predicted  that  she  would  be  one  of  the  pillars  of  the 
Comedie  Fran£aise,  put  herself  at  the  head  of  some  players  on 
the  point  of  going  to  Ghent  for  the  diversion  of  the  English  troops 
scattered  over  the  Low  Countries.  Here,  however,  no  histrionic 
or  social  triumph  could  afford  her  pleasure.  In  her  own  words, 
"  I  was  neither  flattered  by  the  suffrages  I  won,  nor  tempted  by 

the  large  fortune  which  my  Lord  M placed  at  my  disposal. 

The  contempt  which  the  English  nation  affected  for  mine  ren- 
dered them  all  unendurable  in  my  eyes.  It  was  impossible  for  me 
to  hear  them  without  anger."  Nor  was  she  at  the  pains  to  con- 
ceal her  sentiments ;  and  the  hated  foreigners,  thinking  that 
without  her  the  company  would  be  shorn  of  all  its  attractions, 
made  her  a  sort  of  prisoner.  From  this  durance  she  escaped  to 
Dunkirk,  where,  through  the  medium  of  the  Commandant,  she 
received  from  the  Court  an  order  to  appear  at  the  Opera  in  Paris 
as  the  double  of  Mdlle.  Lemaure.  Probably  her  patriotic  attitude 
towards  the  English  had  something  to  do  with  this  recognition  of 
her  claims. 

Her  stay  at  Moliere's  theatre  was  not  to  be  of  long  duration. 
It  is  true  that  she  seemed  likely  to  endow  the  opera  with  a  new 
charm.  "  Having  a  voice  of  extraordinary  compass,"  she  writes, 
"  I  had  the  good  fortune,  though  only  a  very  mediocre  musician, 
to  succeed."  Reams  of  verses  were  penned  in  her  praise,  the 
following  being  elicited  by  her  singing  and  acting  as  the  heroine 
in  Danchet's  "  Hesione  "  :— 


296  THE  THEATRE.  [JUNE  1,1886. 

Hier,  a  leur  gre,  tes  sons  melodieux, 

Belle  Clairon,  moissonaient  le  suffrage  ; 

Et  tes  attraits,  toujours  victorieux, 

Montraient  Venus,  et  frappaient  davantage. 

Tous  les  Amours  venaient  te  rendre  hommage, 

T'applaudissaient ;  c'etait  a  qui  mieux  mieux. 

L'aine  de  tous,  quoique  d'humeur  volage, 

S'est  pour  jamais  etabli  dans  tes  yeux. 

Qui  1'a  fixe  ?     C'est  ton  air  gracieux. 

Oui,  je  1'ai  vu  ;  j'etais  dans  le  parterre, 

Lorsqu  a  sa  mere  il  a  fait  ces  adieux  : 

Tant  que  Clairon  restera  sur  la  terre, 

Je  ne  veux  point  retourner  dans  les  Cieux. 

But  "  so  little  talent,"  she  adds,  "  was  needed  in  this  theatre  for 
appearing  to  have  much  of  it,  so  little  merit  did  I  find  in  following 
only  the  modulations  of  the  musician,  the  tone  of  the  coulisses 
displeased  me  so  thoroughly,  the  mediocrity  of  the  appointments 
made  the  necessity  of  demeaning  oneself  so  absolute,  that  at 
the  end  of  four  months  I  sent  in  my  resignation." 

From  the  Opera,  at  the  request  of  the  Gentlemen  of  the  Chamber, 
she  went  over  to  the  Comedie  Fran9aise  as  an  intended  double  of 
Mdlle.  Dangeville  in  the  soubrettes.  Her  experience  of  tragedy 
was  as  yet  very  slight ;  she  knew  only  five  leading  characters  in 
this  department,  and  had  heard  each  only  once  or  twice.  Never- 
tjieless,  on  learning  from  the  "  semainiers,"  as  a  number  of  players 
who  governed  the  Comedie  in  rotation  were  called,  that  the  laws 
of  the  theatre  required  a  combination  of  all  or  many  kinds  of 
histrionic  talent,  she  impulsively  determined  to  begin  as  a  votary 
of  Melpomene.  "  My  proposition,"  she  tells  us,  "  was  received 
with  coolness  and  disdain.  Piqued,  I  adhered  to  it  in  a  manner 
to  show  that  I  had  a  head  which  required  a  little  management. 
It  was  then  suggested  that  I  should  play  Ines  or  Aricie  in 
'  Phedre.'  I  replied  that  such  parts  were  too  small  for  me 
(que  c'etait  trop  peu  de  chose),  and  that  I  should  play  Phedre 
herself.  I  did  not  know  how  great  Mdlle.  Dumesnil  was  in  this 
part ;  1  had  not  been  to  the  Comedie  since  the  '  Comted' Essex' 
night.  Everybody  laughed;  I  was  assured  that  the  audience 
would  not  allow  me  to  finish  the  first  act.  I  became  hot  with 
indignation,  but  had  the  pride  to  carry  me  through.  '  Messieurs,' 
I  said,  '  that  is  certainly  possible.  But  the  question  is  whether  I 
am  to  appear  or  not.  I  have  the  right  to  choose  my  part.  I 
play  Phedre  or  nothing ! '  And  in  the  end,  probably  with  the 
most  dismal  forebodings  on  the  part  of  the  semainiers,  she  was 
allowed  to  have  her  way. 


JUNE  i,  1886.]  HIPPOL  YTE    CLAIRON.  297 

No  debut  could  have  been  attended  with  more  splendid  success 
than  that  which  the  semainicrs  expected  to  create  a  riot  in  the 
theatre.  Beginning  on  September  19,  1743,  with  Lanoue 
and  Sarrasin  probably  looking  on  from  the  wings,  it  comprised 
performances  of  Phedre,  Dorine  in  "  Tartuffe,"  Zenobie  in 
"  Rhadamiste,"  Ariane  in  Thomas  Corneille's  tragedy,  and  the 
"Electra"  of  Crebillon.  "The  players,"  says  the  Mercurc  dc 
France,  in  its  stately  and  self-possessed  style, "  have  revived  Racine's 
tragedy  of  '  Phedre.'  Mdlle.  Clairon,  a  new  actress,  has  appeared 
in  it  for  the  first  time.  She  represented  the  principal  personage 
amidst  general  applause."  Seldom,  indeed,  had  the  most  difficult 
of  Racine's  heroines  met  with  so  noble  a  representative,  and  the 
actors  who  had  predicted  her  failure  must  have  glanced  at  each 
other  in  mingled  wonderment  and  pleasure  as  the  curtain  fell. 
Her  Dorine  seems  to  have  been  unsatisfactory,  but  any  ground 
she  may  have  lost  here  was  more  than  recovered  by  her  subse- 
quent essays  in  tragedy.  Perhaps  the  general  verdict  of  the  town 
was  best  summed  up  in  some  graceful  lines  by  Voltaire,  to  the 
effect  that  she  was  the  greatest  actress  yet  possessed  by  the 
French  stage.  Mdlle.  Dumesnil,  it  was  at  least  certain,  found  in 
her  a  formidable  rival ;  and  early  in  November,  about  seven 
weeks  after  her  first  appearance,  she  became  a  socitiairc  of  the 
Comedie. 

It  must  have  been  simply  from  motives  of  self-interest  that  the 
players  hastened  to  receive  the  new  comer.  Her  presence  among 
them  was  not  likely  to  promote  the  internal  harmony  upon  which 
so  much  of  their  well-being  depended.  High-spirited  to  a  fault, 
she  never  failed  to  express  her  opinion,  to  uphold  her  real  or 
fancied  rights,  to  repay  a  slight  with  compound  interest,  or  to  set 
her  face  against  any  act  unworthy  of  the  "  com6diens  du  Roi." 
Her  manner  behind  the  scenes  is  said  to  have  been  marked  by  a 
"disdainful  hauteur."  But  to  this  fiery  and  unaccommodating 
temper  she  united  a  histrionic  power  obviously  destined  to  be  a 
mine  of  wealth  for  the  home  of  the  poetic  drama.  Her  acting 
had  sufficient  warmth  of  imagination  to  transport  the  auditor  out 
of  himself.  Most  of  her  contemporaries  concur  in  allowing  her  to 
have  been  a  woman  of  genius.  Nor  was  her  execution  unequal  to 
the  glowing  energy  of  her  conceptions.  By  the  working  of  her 
symmetrical  countenance,  with  or  without  the  aid  of  her  usually 
fine  voice,  "  she  painted,"  says  Thomas,  the  eulogist  of  Descartes 


298  THE   THEATRE.  QUNE  i,  1886 

"  all  the  passions — hatred,  rage,  indignation,  sorrow,  love, 
humanity,  gaiety,  joy.  Nay,  she  painted  the  passions  in  all  their 
shades  and  differences.  In  terror,  for  example,  she  expressed 
affright,  fear,  embarassment,  surprise,  uneasiness."  In  the 
words  of  a  Danish  writer,  "  she  went  through  a  number  of  oppo- 
site feelings,  soft  melancholy,  despair,  languid  tenderness,  raving 
fury,  scorn,  and  melting  love.  She  was  wonderful  at  these 
transitions.  But  she  never  put  off  the  woman ;  in  the  midst  of 
violent  rage  she  was  always  feminine.  When  she  beat  her  fore- 
head with  such  a  cloudy  look,  with  such  a  cry,  we  were  all 
aghast."  Unlike  the  chief  actresses  of  her  time,  who  neglected 
some  passages  in  order  to  produce  greater  effect  in  others,  she 
elaborated  her  characters  in  the  minutest  details,  subordinating 
all  to  the  development  and  illustration  of  a  definite  idea.  But  it 
was  to  art  rather  than  nature  that  she  owed  her  early  triumphs. 
In  her,  perhaps,  the  craft  of  the  player  reached  its  highest 
recorded  point.  Her  style,  without  being  exactly  stagey,  was 
measured,  severe,  statuesque.  It  is  said  that  she  never  gave 
way  to  a  sudden  impulse  ;  all  her  tones  and  gestures  had  been 
carefully  rehearsed  beforehand.  Dexterously  concealed,  this 
.artificiality  was  not  without  a  potent  charm,  even  to  playgoers 
enamoured  of  the  school  of  acting  restored  during  the  past  thirty 
years.  Her  step,  her  attitudes,  her  facial  expression,  the  motions 
of  her  head  and  arms  and  hands — all  had  a  dignity  and  grace 
which  captivated  the  eye  as  closely  as  her  acting  in  other  respects 
did  the  imagination  and  the  understanding : — 

Quelle  grace,  quel  feu,  quelle  aimable  peinture, 
Clairon,  tu  reunis  dans  ton  jeu  seducteur  ! 

Ce  que  PArt,  joint  k  la  Nature 

Peut  former  de  plus  enchanteur. 

Cent  fois,  te  voyant  sur  la  scene 

Ravir  les  suffrages  divers, 

J'ai  cru  que  c'etait  Melpomene 

Qui  recitait  ses  propres  vers. 

Mdlle.  Dumesnil,  partly  by  reason  of  her  more  natural  method, 
remained  supreme  in  the  combination  of  tragic  force  with  pathos 
and  tenderness  ;  but  in  characters  of  the  sterner  type,  especially 
those  including  an  element  of  lofty  and  inflexible  pride,  Clairon 
well  merited  the  eulogium  bestowed  upon  her  by  Voltaire.  Medee, 
Phedre,  Hermione,  Zenobie,  Didon,  Cleopatre,  acquired  from  her 
a  new  interest  and  freshness.  Fortunately,  her  early  and  instant 


JUNE  i,  !886.]  DESDEMONA.  299 

success  did  not  delude  her  into  a  belief  that  she  had  little  to  learn. 
From  the  outset  she  made  her  art  a  subject  of  profound  and 
unremitting  study.  Her  private  rehearsals,  indeed,  were  so  many 
that  she  insensibly  acquired  a  rather  theatrical  air  off  the  stage— 
an  air  which,  joined  to  the  haughtiness  already  mentioned, 
exposed  her  at  times  to  no  little  ridicule.  But  that  ridicule  was 
often  blended  with  a  feeling  of  admiration  quite  unconnected 
with  her  histrionic  gifts.  If  her  wretched  and  untended  child- 
hood had  to  some  extent  embittered  her  temper,  as  was  probably 
the  fact,  it  did  not  prevent  her  from  rising  to  a  high  pitch  of  self- 
denying  generosity  towards  those  whom  she  esteemed. 

(To  be  concluded  in  our  next  Number.) 


Desdemona. 

"  Cold,  cold,  my  girl— cold  as  thy  chastity. "--OTHELLO. 

DRAW  back  the  velvet  curtains,  let  the  light 
Rush  wonderingly  in  !     She  will  not  say 
The  sunbeams  dazzle  her.     .     .     .     Eternal  Night 
Hath  closed  for  her  the  portals  of  the  Day. 
Look  you  how  fair  she  is  !  as  fair  as  when 
She  smiled  on  Cassio — prithee,  where's  her  wrong  ? — 
One  woman,  sure,  doth  smile  on  many  men ! 
'Twas  but  a  little  discord  in  the  song, 
A  little  jarring  of  the  notes — a  string 
Snapt  as  the  minstrel  was  about  to  sing, 
But  jealous  Love  threw  down  his  lute  and  wept, 
Calling  for  music,  when  all  music  slept, 
Save  "  willow,  willow  !  "  dying  in  the  air, — 
The  last  faint  utt'rance  of  a  soul's  despair  ! 

MARIE  CORELLI, 


3oo  THE  THEATRE.  [JUNE  i,  1886. 


"  Faust. 


55 


LYCEUM      THEATRE,      1885. 
DEDICATED  TO  HENRY  IRVING. 

THE  curtain  rises !  and,  as  in  a  dream, 
Or  by  the  wave  of  a  magician's  wand, 
The  theatre-lights  grow  dim,  and  lo,  we  see 
An  old-time  city,  peaceful,  fair,  and  quaint, 
A  grand  cathedral,  through  whose  portals  float 
Echoes  of  music,  noble,  grand,  and  pure — 
Now,  in  the  rise  and  fall  of  organ  notes, 
Then,  in  glad  voices,  hailing  Easter-morn — 
Blending  with  joyous  peals  of  chiming  bells, 
Mirror'd  by  peaceful  sights  and  sounds  is  told 
The  strange  old  story,  which  will  never  lose 
Its  mighty  hold  upon  the  hearts  of  men, 
Whilst  tempest  rages  between  Right  and  Wrong, 
Which  threaten  oft  to  tear  the  soul  in  twain ! 

As  in  a  magic  mirror,  we  behold 

The  counterpart  of  countless  human  lives  ; 

We  see  a  man,  studious,  thoughtful,  wise, 

Within  whose  heart  hot  passions  long  have  slept, 

Till  comes  the  Tempter,  waking  them  to  life  ! 

And  lo  !  they  leap  and  course  through  ev'ry  vein. 

Quick  to  the  winds  he  flings  his  honour,  fame, 

His  peace  of  mind,  and  all  he  once  held  dear  ! 

"  Give  me  my  love,"  he  cries,  "  and  I  am  yours !  " 

Step  after  step,  we  trace  his  downward  course, 

From  the  dark  hour,  which  seals  the  compact  dread, 

To  one,  more  awful  still,  when  Love's  bright  dream — 

So  sweet,  so  brief — is  o'er,  and  close  around 

His  restless  soul  are  drawn  the  Tempter's  chains — 

Those  iron  links  which  once  seemed  light  as  air ! 

And  nought  remains,  save  endless  bitter  shame 

And  agonised  remorse.     For  has  he  not 

Dragged  with  him,  in  his  fall,  another  soul 


JUNE  i,  i886.]  "FAUST."  301 

Down  from  the  throne  of  stainless  innocence, 
To  fade  and  die,  a  crushed  and  broken  flow'r  ? 
Then  falls  the  curtain,  for  the  tale  is  told. 

We  wake,  as  from  a  trance,  and  once  again 

Take  up  the  burden  of  our  daily  life  ; 

But  the  remembrance  of  those  wondrous  scenes 

Becometh  not — as  others  oft  have  done — 

Nought  but  a  dim  and  misty  memory  : 

Nay,  for  the  foremost  actors  of  our  time — 

Whose  constant  aim  it  is  to  realize 

The  grand  ideal  of  a  noble  art — 

Teach  to  the  world  great  lessons  in  this  play, 

Which  may,  perchance,  sink  deep  in  human  hearts 

When  floods  of  pulpit-orat'ry  have  failed  ! 

Are  there  no  modern  Fausts  in  this  our  land, 

Willing  to  barter  all — aye,  their  own  souls, 

That  they  may  taste  of  some  forbidden  fruit 

Which  grows  in  Pleasure's  broad  and  flow'r-strewn  path  ? 

May  not  to  such — through  pastime — be  revealed 

(Ere  toll  the  death-knell  o'er  a  wasted  life, 

Ere  sound  the  awful  words  "  Too  late,  too  late  "  ! ) 

How  serpents  lurk  beneath  the  bright-hued  flow'rs  ? 

How  that  the  fruit,  so  pleasant  to  the  eye, 

Crumbles,  like  Dead-Sea  apples,  at  the  touch, 

And  whither  tends  that  pathway  once  so  fair  ? 

Fair  dainty  maidens — lovely,  bright,  and  pure, 
Shielded  with  tender  care  from  ev'ry  ill, 
And  finding  life  but  one  glad  summer  day — 
Here  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  great  Tempter's  pow'r 
O'er  a  lost  soul  which  once  was  white  as  their's ! 
And  so,  if  e'er  across  their  sunny  path 
Falleth  the  shadow  of  a  ruined  life — 
Of  one  "  who  loved,  not  wisely,  but  too  well," 
But  reapeth  now,  in  tears  and  anguish  sore, 
The  bitter  harvest,  sown  in  days  gone  by  : 
Perchance,  at  that  sad  sight,  the  memory 
May  steal,  like  solemn  music,  o'er  the  heart— 
Of  a  pale,  weary  face  and  mournful  eyes, 
Raised  to  the  Holy  Mother's  sacred  shrine, 


302  THE    THEATRE.  [JUNE  i,  1886. 

There,  pouring  forth  in  sad,  despairing  words, 
Heart-broken  penitence  and  tearful  pray'r ; 
Whose  grief  God's  holy  angels  soothed  at  last ! 
Ah  !  who  can  tell  but  that  remembered  scene 
May  cause  the  cold  disdainful  thought  to  die 
Unuttered  ?     For  shall  erring  mortals  dare 
To  shrink  away,  as  from  a  loathsome  thing — 
To  swell  the  chorus  of  the  world's  harsh  scorn 
'Gainst  one  on  whom,  with  pity,  angels  gaze  ? 
Nay!  rather  their's  to  speak  the  gentle  words 
That  fall  like  balm  upon  the  wounded  heart, 
The  crystal  words  that  cause  the  flow'r  of  Hope 
To  bloom,  and  brighten  a  despondent  life. 

A  play  we  call  it !     Aye,  'tis  more  than  that ; 
It  shadows  forth  a  great  reality ! 
Leading  us  forth  to  touch  the  borderland 
Of  that  vast  world — so  close  about  us  all, 
And  yet  invisible  to  mortal  eyes — 
Wherein,  till  Time  itself  shall  be  no  more, 
A  truceless  war  is  ever  sternly  waged 
'Twixt  pow'rs  of  God,  and  our  great  Enemy 
For  the  possession  of  the  souls  of  men  ! 

And  ev'ry  pilgrim  on  life's  toilsome  road 

Doth  stand — sooner,  or  late — where  two  ways  meet ; 

And  there,  must  make  that  choice  'twixt  God  and  Sin, 

On  which  the  future  destiny  depends  ! 

For,  maybe,  Duty's  path  looks  rough  and  bare, 

While  Pleasure  lures  to  some  fair  sunny  mead, 

And  sore  temptations  press  the  struggling  soul 

To  choose  the  evil  and  refuse  the  good. 

Who  knows,  some  day  may  flash  the  memory 

Of  Faust's  sad  story  and  its  mournful  end — 

When,  stripped  of  all  his  tinsel  bravery, 

At  last  Incarnate  Evil  stood  revealed ! 

God  in  His  mercy  grant,  then,  too,  may  come 

A  strange  new  strength  to  the  once  fainting  heart — 

A  pow'r  to  fight  against  the  subtle  Foe — 

Till  turns  the  Tempter,  back  to  whence  he  came : 

And  one  more  soul  is  gained  for  God  and  Heav'n ! 

EFFIE  M.  AYLING. 


JUNE  i,  i886.  JOHN    HENDERSON.  303 


John    Henderson. 

BY  AUSTIN  BRERETON. 

JOHN  HENDERSON  was  of  the  school,  but  not  an  imitator, 
of  David  Garrick.  His  life  is  instructive  as  an  example  of 
success  attained  by  perseverance.  London,  at  first,  denied  him  a 
home.  Bath  gave  him  a  welcome,  and  in  this  city,  so  full  of 
theatrical  associations,  he  worked  bravely,  and  achieved  legitimate 
fame.  When  he  did  reach  the  goal  of  every  actor's  ambition,  he 
found  himself  surrounded  with  enemies,  not  the  least  of  whom 
was  Garrick  himself.  But  his  talents  were  recognised  in  the 
metropolis,  and  when  his  life  came  to  a  close,  at  the  early  age  of 
thirty-eight,  it  was  with  an  honourable  and  brilliant  record. 
Henderson,  who  was  descended  from  Scottish  Presbyterians  and 
English  Quakers,  was  born  in  Goldsmith-street,  Cheapside.  The 
exact  date  of  his  birth  is  not  known,  but  he  was  baptised  on 
March  8,  1747,  a  few  days  after  his  birth.  A  year  later,  his 
father,  an  Irish  factor,  died,  leaving  his  widow  and  two  sons  but 
slenderly  provided  for.  When  two  years  of  age,  the  boy  was 
removed  by  his  mother  to  Newport  Pagnel,  Buckinghamshire, 
where  he  remained  ten  years,  going  afterwards  to  a  boarding 
school  at  Hemel  Hempstead,  where  he  resided  little  more  than 
twelve  months.  He  then  returned  to  London,  and,  having  a  taste 
for  drawing,  was  apprenticed  to  Fournier.  The  boy  had  to  drive 
his  master  when  he  went  out  to  give  drawing  lessons,  and  to  clean 
the  chaise  and  rub  down  the  horse  on  returning  home.  But 
young  Henderson  did  other  work  as  well  at  this  time,  for  he  made 
a  drawing  which  was  exhibited  at  the  Society  of  Arts  and  Sciences, 
and  obtained  a  premium,  in  1767.  Leaving  Fournier,  Henderson 
went  to  reside  with  a  near  relation,  a  silversmith  of  considerable 
business,  in  St.  James's-street,  with  whom  it  was  intended  he 
should  enter  into  partnership.  But  the  death  of  this  relation  put 
an  end  to  the  scheme.  Hereafter,  he  bent  his  attention  to  the 
stage,  but  before  he  could  obtain  a  footing  on  it  he  had  to  undergo 


304  THE  THEATRE.  [JUNE  i,  188 

a  long  and  somewhat  severe  struggle.  In  his  boyish  days  his 
mother  had  placed  in  his  hands  a  volume  of  Shakespeare,  and  he 
had  become  possessed  with  an  idea  of  representing  on  the  stage 
characters  which  he  had  seen  in  his  mind's  eye.  His  first  intro- 
duction was  to  George  Garrick  and  resulted  in  a  rebuff,  Mr. 
Garrick  declaring  that  his  voice  was  so  feeble  that  he  could  not 
possibly  convey  articulate  sounds  to  the  audience  of  any  theatre. 
Nothing  daunted,  he  pursued  his  favourite  object,  and,  having 
formed  an  acquaintance  with  a  bookseller  at  wrhose  shop  David 
Garrick  was  often  to  be  seen,  and  through  whom  he  obtained  an 
introduction  to  the  great  actor.  But  Garrick  would  have  nothing 
to  say  to  the  young  aspirant.  An  application  to  the  elder  Colman 
was  treated  with  lofty  contempt.  At  length  Henderson  made 
his  first  bow  in  public,  at  the  Pope's  Head,  Islington,  where  he 
delivered  Garrick's  "  Ode  on  the  Shakespeare  Jubilee,"  for  the 
benefit  of  an  inferior  actor.  After  dancing  attendance  upon 
Garrick  for  more  than  two  years,  Henderson  prevailed  upon  him 
to  grant  an  audience  to  him.  The  manager  declared  that  his  voice 
was  not  sufficiently  melodious  or  clear,  or  his  pronunciation 
articulate  enough ;  or,  to  use  his  own  words,  "  that  he  had  in  his 
mouth  too  much  wool  or  worsted,  which  he  must  absolutely  get  rid 
of  before  he  would  be  fit  for  Drury  Lane  stage."  Garrick  got  rid 
of  Henderson  by  sending  him  with  a  letter  of  introduction  to  the 
manager  of  the  theatre  at  Bath,  where  he  was  engaged  at  the 
munificent  salary  of  a  guinea  a  week. 

His  first  appearance  on  the  stage  was  made  on  October  6,  1772, 
his  first  character  being  Hamlet,  "by  a  young  gentleman." 
Assuming  the  name  of  Courtney,  he  played  Richard  III.  on  the 
2ist  of  the  same  month.  These  characters  were  speedily  followed 
by  Benedick,  Macbeth,  Captain  Bobadil,  Bayes,  Don  Felix,  the 
Earl  of  Essex,  Hotspur  (on  December  26,  when  he  played  under 
his  own  name),  Fribble,  King  Lear,  Hastings,  Alonzo,  Alzuma — 
a  pretty  good  round  of  parts  for  anyone  of  twenty-five  years  of 
age  to  attempt !  He  performed  in  tragedy  and  farce  every  night 
during  the  season/ and  his  fame  rapidly  rose.  He  returned  to 
London  in  the  summer  of  1773,  where  he  did  not  engage  in  any 
theatre,  and  in  the  [autumn  went  back  to  Bath,  adding  to  his 
repertory  the  characters  of  Pierre,  Don  John,  Comus,  Othello, 
Archer,  Ranger,  Sir  John  Brute,  Belville  in  "The  School 
for  Wives,"  Henry  II.,  Beverley  in  "  The  Man  of  Business,"  and 


JUNE  i,  1886.1  JOHN    HENDERSON.  305 

Zanga.  During  this  season  Garrick,  ever  jealous  of  a  rival  m-ar 
the  throne,  saw  Henderson,  and  wrote  from  liath— "His  Don 
John  is  a  comic  Cato,  and  his  Hamlet  is  a  mixture  of 
comedy,  pastoral  farce,  and  nonsense  :  he  has  a  manner  of  paving, 
when  he  would  be  emphatic,  that  is  ridiculous,  and  must  be 
changed,  or  he  would  not  be  suffered  near  the  Bedford  Coffee- 
house." Applications  for  engagements  vainly  made  to 
Garrick  and  Foote,  and  it  was  not  until  an  accident  h  :  that 
he  obtained  an  opening  in  London.  In  1777,  the  elder  Colman 
purchased  the  patent  of  the  "  Little  Theatre"  in  the  I  lay  in 
from  Samuel  Foote,  and,  being  in  want  of  a  novelty,  engaged 
Henderson.  The  result  was  an  instantaneous  success,  and,  in 
thirty-four  nights,  four  thousand  five  hundred  pounds — a  large  sum 
for  those  days — flowed  into  the  treasury.  His  first  part  on  the 
London  stage  was  Shylock,  on  June  n.  This  was  quickly  succeeded 
by  Hamlet,  Leon,  Falstaff  in  "  Henry  IV."  and  in  "The  M 
Wives  of  Windsor,"  Richard  III.,  Don  John,  and  Bayes. 

Henderson  had  to  contend  against  considerable  physical  disadvan- 
tages ;  his  eye  wanted  expression,  his  figure  was  not  well  modelled 
and  his  voice  was  too  thin  for  passion  and  not  sufficiently  soft  for'. 
But  against  these  defects  he  had  a  bright  intelligence  in  his  favour. 
His  merits  were  greater  than  his  defects.     His  mind  was  ana! 
and  he  showed  the  inner  working,   the  soul,  of  every  char 
which  he  interpreted.    Mrs.  Siddons  thought  him  the  embodiment 
of  feeling  and  intelligence.     It  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  his 
first  season  in  London  was  a  success.    Garrick  was  green  with  en  vy . 
After  seeing  Henderson  as  Shylock,  he  remarked  that  "  Tubal  was 
very  creditably  performed,  indeed  !  "     Enemies  were  still  at  work, 
and  a  friend  of  the  actor's  thought  it   necessary  to  take  up  the 
cudgels  in  his  defence.     Accordingly  there  was  published,  during 
Henderson's  first  season  at   the   Haymarket,  a  pamphlet  en: 
"  A  Genuine  Narrative  of  the  Theatrical  Transactions  of  Mr.  John 
Henderson,  the  Bath  Roscius,"  in  which   the  actor's  cause 
warmly  espoused,  and  which  ran  through  at  least  two  editions. 
Colman  gave  him  a  free  benefit,  from  which   he  derived  a  large 
sum,  and  before  the  winter  he  was  engaged  by  Sheridan,  who  had 
succeeded  Garrick  at  Drury  Lane,  for  two  years,  at  a  salary  of 
ten  pounds  a  week,  and  with  an  indemnification  from  his  articles 
with   the    Bath   manager.     In  the  summer  of  1778,  he  went  to 
Ireland,  where  he  was  most  favourably  received.     On  January  13, 


306  THE   THEATRE  [JUNE  i,  1886. 

1779,  he  married  a  Wiltshire  maiden  with  a  fortune  of  five 
thousand  pounds.  After  visiting  Ireland  again,  he  moved  to 
Covent  Garden  at  an  increased  salary.  Now  as  much  courted  as 
he  had  been  previously  despised  by  the  managers,  he  dictated  his 
own  terms,  and  swayed  the  public  by  his  genius.  During  the  last 
three  months  of  his  life  he  frequently  played  long  and  arduous 
characters.  His  final  appearance  before  the  footlights  was  made 
on  November  3,  1785,  when  he  acted  Horatius  in  "The  Roman 
Father,"  a  tragedy  founded  on  Corneille  by  William  Whitehead, 
who  succeeded  Colley  Gibber  as  Poet  Laureate.  An  attack  of 
brain-fever  terminated  in  his  death,  at  Buckingham-street,  Strand, 
on  November  25  of  the  same  year.  He  was  buried  in  West- 
minster Abbey,  where  he  rests,  in  Poet's  Corner,  beside  Garrick, 
Sheridan,  and  Dickens,  and  where  he  has  for  company  such 
famous  players,  in  addition  to  Garrick,  as  Betterton,  the  first  Mrs. 
Barry,  Anne  Oldfield,  Mrs.  Bracegirdle,  and  Gibber. 

Henderson's  Falstaff  was  his  best  performance.  Kemble  and 
Munden,  who  all  their  lives  longed  to  play  the  merry  knight,  were 
deterred  from  so  doing  by  the  remembrance  of  Henderson's  ex- 
cellence in  it.  There  was,  however,  a  mixture  of  the  old  woman 
with  that  of  the  old  man  in  his  performance ;  but  he  laughed 
throughout  the  entire  part,  and  his  laugh,  like  that  of  Dora 
Jordan,  was  irresistible  to  his  audience.  His  Benedick  was  quite 
as  good  as  Garrick's  ;  his  Shylock  was  excellent,  and  it  is  worthy 
of  note  that  he  was  the  first  actor  who  differently  pointed  this 
passage : — 

"  Signer  Antonio,  many  a  time  and  oft,  on  the  Rialto." 

"  Many  a  time  and  oft "  was  generally  considered  a  common 
proverbial  expression,  but  Henderson  pointed  it  thus  : — 

"  Signor  Antonio,  many  a  time,  and  oft  on  the  Rialto"; 

thus  implying  that  Antonio  had  not  only  generally  "  rated  "  him, 
but  oft  on  the  Rialto,  "  where  merchants  most  do  congregate." 
Henderson  made  a  powerful  impression  in  Cumberland's  tragedy, 
"  The  Mysterious  Husband,"  and  he  was  unexcelled,  save  by 
Garrick,  in  the  murder  scene  in  "  Macbeth,"  while  his  lago  was 
a  masterly  impersonation.  His  Sir  Giles  Overreach  was  also  a 
fine  rendering  of  the  character,  though  somewhat  too  painfully 
elaborated,  a  fault  generally  to  be  found  with  his  acting.  His 


JUNE  i,  1886.]  JOHN    HENDERSOX.  307 

Hamlet  was  only  a  creditable  performance.     Garrick-worshij 
found  fault  with  it  because  in  the  closet  scene  he  did  not,  on 
seeing  the  ghost,   upset   the   chair—"  Mr.   Garrick,   sir,  always 
overthrew  the  chair." 

Henderson  understood  French  and  spoke  it  fluently.      He 
left  behind  him  a  few  poetical  pieces  which  prove  him  to  1 
been  a  man  of  taste  and  humour.     There  is  not  a  single  blei: 
upon  his  private  character.     As  a  reader,  he  was  um-<ju;ill< •<!.     In 
the  Lent  of  1785   he  entered   into  a  partnership    with  Thomas 
Sheridan  to  deliver  public  readings  at  the  Freemason's  Hall.    The 
serious  passages   were   allotted   to  Sheridan,  the  comic  ones  to 
Henderson.     Sheridan  chiefly  gave  selections  from  his  "  Lectures 
on  Oratory,"  which  were  generally  dull  and  heavy,  but  his  recita- 
tion of  "  Alexander's  Feast "  was  animated  and  expressive  to  a 
great  degree.     His  delivery  of  Shenstone's   "  Elegy  on  JL 
was,  however,  cold  and  languid.     On  the  other  hand,  Henderson's 
recitations  from  Sterne,  and  his  recital  of  "  John  Gilpin,"  were 
irresistibly  diverting;   his  rendering  of  the  latter  made  Cov 
tale,  previously  unknown,  popular  all   over  the  kingdom.     The 
readings  were  attended  with  vast  success,   and  would  have  been 
continued  but  for  Henderson's  early  death. 

Henderson  founded  the  Shandean  Club,   which   was  he! 
Maiden    Lane,    Covent   Garden.      Shortly  after    his   death,    his 
"  Letters  and  Poems"  with  "Anecdotes  of  his  Life,"   by  J"hn 
Ireland,  a  rambling  but  otherwise  inoffensive  book,  was  publi- 
A  picture  of  him,  by  Gainsborough,  hangs  in  the  Garrick  Club. 
The  portrait  illustrating  this  memoir  is  engraved  from  a  painting 
by   George    Romney,   and   represents   him   in  the   character  of 
Macbeth. 


NEW  SERIES. — VOL.   VIT.  V 


3oS  THE  THE  A  TRE.  [JUNE  r>  l886< 


First     Appearances. 

DAVID     GARRICK. 
BY    PERCY    FITZGERALD. 

THE  fascinating  opportunity  of  trial,  when,  after  an  hour  or  two's 
terrible  probation,  the  obscure  candidate  is  acclaimed  with 
rapture,  and  awakes  next  morning  "  to  find  himself  famous  "  and 
his  fortune  made,  is  confined  to  but  a  few  professions — to  the 
orator,  lawyer,  writer,  and,  above  all,  to  the  player.  The  latter, 
however,  most  reaps  the  fruit  of  the  exquisite  delirium  of  unex- 
pected success.  There  are  the  critical  audience,  the  lights,  the  hum 
of  expectation,  the  cold  distrust,  the  extorted  applause  all  changed 
into  a  whirl  of  enthusiasm,  and  the  rapture  of  unmistakable 
approval,  gathering  as  it  goes.  But  there  have  been  few  of  these 
great  triumphs — scarcely  half  a  dozen  in  all. 

How  often,  as  we  turn  to  some  old  faded  play-bill,  the  eye  falls 

on  the  simple  announcement :"  Juliet,    by    Miss (her  first 

appearance  on  any  stage)"  ;  or,  it  might  be  Juliet's  young  lover,  "  by 
a  gentleman  ;  his  first  appearance."  This  business-like,  prosaic 
announcement  has  often  significantly  represented  a  life,  a  romance, 
decades  of  years,  during  which  the  public  stock  of  harmless 
pleasure  has  been  increased,  together  with  vast  sums  of  money 
produced.  It  seems,  as  we  look,  to  have  the  power  of  a  cabalistic 
charm.  Often  it  has  meant  no  more  than  the  lighting  of  the 
candles,  put  out  when  the  night  was  over  ;  with  it,  perhaps,  put  out 
for  ever,  the  pretensions  of  the  candidate.  Often  it  has  betokened 
something  almost  tragic ;  all  staked  upon  the  cast  of  a  die ;  in- 
different, perhaps  unjust  judgment,  with  failure,  from  which  there 
has  been  no  recovery. 

On  the  other  hand,  how  exquisite  and  enviable,  beyond  all  other 
sensations,  the  waking  next  morning  from  one  dream  to  another 
— to  the  delicious  sense  of  victory  and  success  assured ;  the 
change  from  poverty  to  wealth,  from  doubt  to  certainty ;  to  say 
nothing  of  the  welcome  incidents  of  flattering  compliments, 


JUNE  i,  1886.]  FIRST   APPEARANCES.  309 

congratulations,  invitations.  Few,  however,  have  enjoyed  these 
triumphs,  and  there  is  such  a  level  of  excellence  nowadays  that 
the  contrast  between  mediocrity  and  the  higher  excellence  is  not 
likely  to  strike  so  effectively  as  it  did  before. 

Strictly  speaking,  these  grand  successes  and  attendant  ovations 
do  not  wait  on  First  Appearances.  There  is  really  no  instance  of  a 
person  stepping  straight  from  the  street  on  the  stage  and  being 
thus  acclaimed  tumultuously.  There  has  always  been  some 
practice  and  training  in  obscure  places.  Still,  these  successes 
may  be  appropriately  defined  "  first  appearances,"  as  it  is  the  first 
appeal  to  the  legitimate  judges  and  to  those  who  are  best  entitled  to 
judge  on  the  claim.  Hitherto  the  postulant  has  been  merely  in 
the  schools.  Still,  we  can  boast  of  one  actor,  and  of  one  only, 
who  may  be  said  to  have  been  an  exception,  and  who  succeeded 
almost  without  training  or  practice.  This,  it  will  be  guessed,  was 
David  Garrick. 

It  seems  like  a  romance.  Here  was  an  officer's  son  amusing 
himself  in  town,  while  affecting  to  follow  the  calling  of  a  wine 
merchant,  attending  theatres  and  green-rooms ;  small  of  person, 
though  a  neatly-made,  "  spract  "  young  man,  with  neither  practice 
in  stage-business  or  acting  beyond  amateur  work,  yet  appearing 
at  a  small  London  theatre  and  taking  the  audience,  as  it  is  called, 
by  storm. 

A  young  fellow  of  a  prudent  and  discreet  character,  such  as  he 
was,  felt  that  the  difficulties  of  his  adopting  the  stage  as  a  profes- 
sion were  almost  insurmountable.  His  relations  were  all  of  the 
most  respectable  and  sober  kind,  whom  such  a  step  would  have 
outraged.  His  father  had  been  an  officer  of  French  extraction, 
and  his  father's  relations — the  Fermignacs,  strict  Huguenots — 
well-to-do  merchants,  were  settled  at  Carshalton.  His  uncle 
and  sisters  at  Lichfield  enjoyed  the  friendship  and  favour  of  the 
leading  families  of  the  neighbourhood.  Failure,  or  even  mediocre 
success,  would  bring  not  only  disgrace  but  forfeiture  of  all  hope  of 
assistance  and  protection.  This  terror,  as  it  almost  seemed  to 
be,  was  before  him,  even  after  he  had  taken  the  serious  step. 
The  attraction,  however,  was  irresistible,  and,  instead  of  attending 
to  his  wine — the  offices  were  in  some  of  the  old  buildings  that 
stood  where  Adelphi  Terrace  now  stands — he  was  haunting  the 
Green-rooms,  and  courting  favour  with  such  players  as  Macklin 
and  the  noted  or  notorious  Woffington.  He  was  also  intimate  with 

Y   2 


310  THE    THE  A  TRE.  QUNE  i,  i88& 

the  managers  of  two  patent  theatres,  as  well  as  with  Giffard,  who 
then  directed  a  place  of  amusement  in  what  is  now  the  Minoriesr 
or  Goodman's  Fields,  as  it  was  then  called,  a  new  theatre  where 
plays  were  "given  gratis"  the  charge  being  nominally  made 
for  a  concert,  a  trick  which  could  not  have  borne  serious  discus- 
sion for  a  moment. 

Goodman's  Fields,  however,  was  a  new  and  beautiful  house 
built  by  an  architect  of  reputation,  and  handsomely  decorated. 
It  would  appear  to  have  been  about  the  size  of  the  present  Royalty 
Theatre.  Its  advertisement  figured  in  the  daily  papers  with  those 
of  the  patent  houses.  One  night,  when  a  harlequinade  was  being 
performed,  the  harlequin  became  indisposed,  the  young  wine 
merchant  being  at  hand,  put  on  the  mask  and  played  two  or 
three  scenes.  Not  long  after  Mr.  Giffard  took  some  of  his  com- 
pany "on  tour"  down  to  Ipswich,  and  the  young  man  went  with 
the  party.  There  he  appeared  as  Aboan  in  Southern's  play  of 
"  Oronooko,"  assuming  the  name  of  Mr.  Lyddal.  He  also 
appeared  as  Chamont  in  "  The  Orphan."  He  was  received  with 
favour,  and  tried  other  characters,  comic  as  well  as  tragic.  Yates, 
long  one  of  the  pillars  of  Drury  Lane,  used  to  relate  anecdotes  of 
the  expedition ;  and  one  of  the  Giffards,  who  lived  up  to  seventy 
years  ago,  used  to  boast  that  the  young  wine  merchant  had  played 
Osric  to  his  Hamlet.  Returning  to  town  quite  fixed  in  his  purpose 
of  making  the  stage  his  profession,  he  applied  to  the  managers  of 
the  patent  theatres  for  an  engagement,  but  was  refused.* 

At  this  time  there  were  only  the  two  patent  theatres  of  Drury 
Lane  and  Covent  Garden  to  which  the  aspirant  could  turn  his 
eyes  when  hoping  for  a  chance  to  display  his  talents.  And  it  is  a 
matter  of  surprise  why  the  young  Mr.  Garrick,  who  was  behind 
the  scenes  at  the  greater  houses,  and  knew  the  managers  and 
players,  did  not  make  his  venture  in  either  of  those  places.  The 
reason  appears  to  have  been  dread  of  offending  his  highly  reputable 
family  in  Lichfield.  He  was,  as  is  well  known,  an  officer's  son  ; 
his  family  was  on  intimate  terms  with  the  leading  people  living 
near  the  city ;  and  in  the  case  of  failure  he  would  have  brought 
discredit  on  the  family  name  and  have  been  cut  off  from 


*The  pantomime  at  Goodman's  Fields,  which  was  strictly  the  occasion  of  Garrick's 
first  appearance  on  any  stage,  was  called  "  Harlequin's  Student;  or,  A  Tale  of 
Pantomime,  with  a  representation  of  Shakespeare's  Monument."  Yates,  whose 
remplaqant  he  was,  played  Harlequin. 


JUNE  i,  i886.]  FIRST    APPEARANCES.  311 

all  chances  of  assistance  from  his  relatives.  The  failure  at 
Goodman's  Fields  Theatre,  a  little  obscure  house  in  tin:  Minories, 
would  never  have  been  heard  of,  or  soon  forgot  t 

It  was  now  the  fateful  night — the  memorable  njth  of  October, 
1741.  We  can  call  up  the  scene — the  small,  but  elegantly 
decorated  theatre,  far  away  in  the  Minories,  to  which  the 
neophyte's  friends  and  supporters  had  journeyed  from  the 
coffee-houses  and  streets  about  Covent  Garden.  The  ln>i: 
was  said,  was  by  no  means  full.  The  ceiling  was  decorated  in 
the  French  manner,  crowded  with  figures  and  painted  historical 
scenes.  There  were  many  in  the  audience  who  couM,  sixty  and 
•seventy  years  later,  relate  the  events  of  that  night.  Old  Macklin 
always  imagined  he  had  been  present ;  but  I  find  that  he  \vas 
playing  that  night  at  another  theatre.  Taylor,  the  oculist ; 
""Gentleman"  Smith,  the  first  Charles  Surface;  and  Vates,  the 
comedian,  whose  wife  took  part  in  the  play,  were  among  these. 
There  was  also  a  worthy  Lichfield  gentleman,  Mr.  Swinfun,  who 
had  an  interest  in  the  young  man,  and  who  has  left  an  account  of 
the  night. 

The  bill  had  been  given  at  length  in  the  morning  papers,  with 
the  announcement — "  The  part  of  King  Richard  by  a  gentleman 
who  never  appeared  on  any  stage,"  a  long-established  form  of 
stage  fiction.  There  are  collectors  of  "  Garrick  bills,"  and  one 
-virtuoso  has  one  almost  complete ;  but  it  may  be  doubted  if  any 
one  possesses  the  bill  of  this  night.  Some  seventy  years  ago  "  Mr. 
Smith,  of  Lisle-street,"  we  are  told,  had  a  reprint  made  of  a  copy 
in  his  possession.  Here  it  is,  reprinted  once  more  from  my 
copy,  which  itself  is  a  rarity  : — 

GOODMAN'S      FIELDS. 


At  the  THEATRE  in  Goodmans  Fields,  This  Day, 
will  be  Performed 

A  Concert  of  Vocal  and  Instrumental  Music 

DIVIDED  INTO  Two  PARTS. 

TICKETS  AT  THREE,  Two,  AND  ONE  SHILLING. 

Places  for  the  Boxes  to  be  taken  at  the  FLEECE  TAVERN,  near  the  THEATRE 

X.B.— Between  the  Two  Parts  of  the  Con. 
Will    be    presented    an    Historical    Play,    called    the 
LIFE  AND  DEATH  OF 

King       Richard       the      Third, 

CONTAINING  THE  DISTRESSES  OF  K.  HENRY  VI  , 
The  artful  acquisition  of  the  Crown  by  AY//£  Richard, 


3i2  THE    THEATRE.  [JUNE  i,  i8S6. 

The  Murder  of  Young  King  Edward  V.  and  his  Brother  in  the  Tower, 

THE  LANDING  OF  THE  EARL  OF  RICHMOND, 
And  the  Death  of  King  Richard  in  the  memorable  Battle 

of  Bosworth  Field,  being  the  last  that  was  fought 

Between   the   Houses  of  York  and   Lancaster  :    with 

many  other  true  Historical  Passages. 

The  Part  of  King  Richard  by  a    GENTLEMAN 

( Who  never  appeared  on  any  Stage). 
King  Henry,  by  Mr.  Giffard.  Richmond,  Mr.  Marshall, 

Prince  Edward,  by  Miss  HIPPISLEY.    Duke  of  York,  Miss  NAYLOR. 
Duke  of  Buckingham,  Mr.  PATERSON.  Duke  of  Norfolk,  Mr.  BLAKES. 

Lord  Stanley,  Mr.  PAGETT. 
Oxford,  Mr.  VAUGHAN.     Tressel,  Mr.  W.  GIFFARD.     Catesby, 

Mr.  MARR.  Ratcliff,  Mr.  CROFTS. 

Blunt,  Mr.  NAYLOR.     Tyrrel,  Mr.  PUTTENHAM.     L.  Mayor,  Mr.  DUNSTALL. 

The  Queen,  Mrs.  STEEL.      Duchess  of  York,  Mrs.  YATES. 
And    the    Part    of   Lady    Anne,    by     Mrs.     GIFFARD. 

With 

ENTERTAINMENTS    OF    DANCING 

By  Mons.  FROME(N)T,  Madame  DEVALT,  and  the  two  Masters  and  Miss  GRANIER. 
To  which  will  be  added  a  Ballad  Opera,  of  One  Act,  called 

The      Virgin      Unmask'd. 

The   Part  of  Lucy,   by  Miss    HIPPISLEY. 
Both  of  which  will  be  Performed  GRATIS  by  Persons  for  their  Diversion. 


The  Concert  will  begin  exactly  at  Six  o'clock. 

The  quaint  description  of  the  play — "  The  distresses  of  K. 
Henry,"  "  the  artful  acquisition  of  the  Crown/'  will  be  noted,  as 
well  as  the  curious  finale,  that  "  both,"  meaning  the  two  dramas, 
would  be  performed  gratis  by  persons  for  their  diversion.  The 
charge  for  tickets  was  for  the  concert  of  music,  a  trick  to  avoid 
penalties.  The  leading  support  of  the  postulant  was  drawn  from 
the  manager's  family,  he  himself,  his  brother  and  wife  (nee 
Lyddal)  taking  characters,  while  the  Richmond  came  from  the 
Theatre  Royal,  Smock  Alley,  Dublin,  an  actor  named  Marshall. 
"  The  rest  is  silence,"  at  least  as  to  the  merit  of  any  of  the 
party. 

Now,  the  first  part  of  the  concert  is  over,  and  the  portion 
"  given  gratis "  is  about  to  commence.  The  curtain  rises,  and 
the  young  man,  small  of  stature  but  bright  in  countenance,  steps 
on.  It  was  noted  that  he  was  nervous  or  disconcerted  for  a  second 
or  two,  but  recovered  at  once.  The  moment  he  set  to  work,  it 
was  seen — with  surprise,  we  are  told — that  the  character,  and  the 
varying  emotions  of  the  character,  were  repeated  in  his  face. 
The  different  passions  he  was  expressing  in  words  were  legible 


JUNE  i,  1886.]  FIRST  APPEARANCES.  313 

there.  We  may  smile  at  this  obvious  mode  of  interpretation,  but 
how  few  of  our  own  players  cultivate  the  art  of  expression.  The 
audiences  were  accustomed  to  a  mechanical  form  of  delivery, 
and  "the great  Quin"  as  he  was  then  considered,  kept  his  voice  at 
an  elevation,  alternated  with  sudden  and  unmeaning  depression. 
This  ridiculous  gamut  had  little  or  nothing  to  do  with  the  sense. 
Just  and  natural  modulation  to  suit  the  sense  was  never  thought 
of.  Judge  of  the  astonishment  and  pleasure  when  here  befor 
company  was  Richard  himself,  ferocious,  passionate — expressing 
his  villainy  as  such  a  being  might  do.  As  he  proceeded,  this 
realism,  as  it  seemed  then  by  contrast,  was  increased ;  se 
did  his  fire,  spirit,  and  rage  increase.  His  burst — "  What  docs 
he  in  the  North,"  was  uttered  in  a  tempest,  and  en: 
away  the  audience.  In  the  dream  scene,  on  the  couch  which 
Hogarth  was  presently  to  paint,  he  affected  the  audience 
astonishingly.  He  seemed  a  spectacle  of  horror.  After  calling 
out  the  well-known  "Give  me  another  horse,"  he  paused,  and 
with  a  countenance  of  dismay  advanced,  crying  out  in  a  tone  of 
distress,  "  Bind  up  my  wounds!"  Then,  falling  on  his  side,  said, 
in  the]most  piteous  accents,  "  Have  mercy,  Heaven  !"  Even  as 
we  read  these  words,  the  scene  rises  before  us,  and  there  is  some- 
thing original  in  the  interpretation,  notably  in  the  pause.  All  this 
horror  is  certainly  seen  in  the  powerful  face  and  attitude  por- 
trayed by  Hogarth.  Astonished,  doubtful  at  first,  as  to  this  new 
style,  the  spectators  were  at  last  carried  away  by  enthusiasm, 
delight,  and  surprise,  from  which  emotions  they  relieved  them- 
selves by  loud  and  reiterated  plaudits.  With  the  last  act,  the  per- 
formance was  so  spirited,  the  "  off  with  his  head  "  was  delivered 
with  such  a  chuckle  of  enjoyment,  that  they  broke  into  shouts ; 
and  his  death  was  "accompanied  with  the  loudest  congratulations." 
At  one  time,  indeed,  his  voice  failed  him,  and  he  grew  hoarse  : 
but  a  worthy  printer,  called  Leach,  supplied  an  orange,  an  invalu- 
able aid,  and  could  thus  boast  that  he  had  contributed  to  the 
success  of  the  night. 

It  was  complete,  this  triumph,  and  next  day  the  "  Daily  Post," 
in  a  meagre  but  significant  article,  related  how  Richard  had  been 
performed  by  a  gentleman  who  never  appeared  before,  "whose 
reception  was  the  most  extraordinary  and  great  tltat  was  ever 
known  on  such  an  occasion"  The  crescendo  of  fame  and  applause 
that  succeeded  is  too  well-known  to  enter  on.  The  town  became 


314  THE    THEATRE.  [JUNE  i,  1886. 

"  horn  mad  "  ;  every  one  journeyed  miles  to  the  Minories,  as  they 
used  to  do  some  years  ago  to  Tottenham  Court  Road,  or  an  obscure 
theatre  at  Islington.  Distance  makes  no  difference  where  a  craze 
is  concerned.  Pope  went  to  see  him  three  times,  and  declared 
him  to  be  without  a  rival ;  royal  personages  came  also. 

Still  the  public  were  not  informed  who  "  the  gentleman  "  was. 
For  close  on  a  month  the  bills  announced  every  night  that  the 
part  would  be  taken  by  "  the  gentleman  who  played  the  part 
before."  And  it  was  not  until  November  13,  1741,  that  it  was  given 
out  formally  that  the  play  would  be  performed,  "  at  the  desire  of 
several  persons  of  quality,  by  Mr.  GARRICK."  But  this  success  had 
nearly  proved  fatal  to  the  theatre,  for  it  drew  to  it  the  attention  of 
the  magistrates  and  licenser,  to  say  nothing  of  the  rival  theatres. 
Twenty  years  after  there  was  published  a  curious  letter,  which  has 
escaped  notice,  and  which  shows  in  what  peril  the  theatre  stood. 
It  was  dated  November  20 — that  is  a  month  after  Garrick's  first 
appearance — and  was  written  by  a  friend  of  the  theatre. 

DEAR  FRIEND, — As  to  being  settled  at  present,  I  cannot  flatter 
myself  with  it,  because  our  old  friend,  Sir  John  Barnard,  has  threatened 
Mr.  Giffard  with  fresh  persecution,  and  how  in  the  end  we  may  fare 
is  very  doubtful  ;  but  there  is  a  man,  one  Garrick,  who  has  turned 
actor  and  does  wonders  here,  being  much  followed,  having  played 
Richard  III.,  Clodio,  Chamont,  and  a  new  part  in  a  comedy  called 
"  Pamela,'' which  is  now  acting,  this  being  the  tenth  night,  to  great 
audiences.  But  this  is  too  great  success  to  last,  for  I  hear  that  an 
uncle  of  his  hath  made  him  large  offers  to  leave  the  stage,  as  by  this 
means  we  shall  not  only  lose  but  a  good  prospect  of  having,  if  un- 
molested from  the  aforesaid  magistrate,  a  good  season.  P.S. — I  have 
read  that  Mr.  Garrick  played  the  summer  season  at  Ipswich  previous, 
but  not  for  any  pecuniary  advantage. 

It  is  curious  to  find  that  the  date  of  so  remarkable  an  event  as 
this  should  in  a  few  years  have  been  forgotten,  some,  like  Chet- 
wode,  setting  it  down  as  having  occurred  in  1740.  In  a  wonderful 
collection  made  about  the  commencement  of  the  century  by  Mr. 
Nixon,  and  now  in  possession  of  the  Garrick  Club,  there  is  re- 
corded a  bet  by  which  Mr.  Bedford  "  wagers  two  gallons  of  claret 
with  Mr.  Williams  that  Mr.  Garrick  did  not  play  upon  ye  stage 
in  ye  year  1732  or  before.  Paid."  The  actor  decides  the  question  : 
"  I  acted  at  Goodman's  Fields  for  first  time  in  ye  year  1741. — 
D.  Garrick.  Witness,  G.  Nursel,  Draper." 

But  now  came  the  anxiety — how  to  break  it  to  the  relatives. 
Terrible  thought  !  This  duty  was  kindly  undertaken  by  a  worthy 
Lichfield  gentleman,  who  was  in  the  audience.  Next  morning  he 


JUNE  i,  i886.]  FIRST    APPEARANCES.  315 

wrote  to  Brother  Peter  the  dreadful  news  in  a  quaint,  guarded 
style  :  "  My  good  friend  David  Garrick  performed  last  night  at 
Goodman's  Fields  Theatre,  and  for  fear  you  should  hear  a  false  or 
malicious  account  I  will  give  you  the  truth.  For  I  was  there"  he 
goes  on,  "  and  was  witness  to  his  merit.  General  applause  he 
gained  in  the  character  of  King  Richard  ye  Third,  for  I  believe 
there  was  not  one  in  the  house  who  was  not  in  raptures,  and  I 
heard  several  men  of  judgment  declare  it  their  opinion  that  no  one 
ever  excelled  him  in  the  part."  The  same  post  brought  down  to 
Lichfield  the  culprit's  own  letter,  which  I  have  had  in  my  hand, 
which  began  with  a  sham  air  of  indifference  :  "  The  shirt  canic 
down  safe  ! "  There  is  a  pleasant  touch  of  comedy  here.  He  had 
to  make  the  most  humble  excuses — money  all  lost  in  the  wine 
business — ruin  approaching — his  own  late  illness  owing  to  this 
anxiety.  But  he  had  the  feeling  that  he  possessed  the  genius 
for  it.  "  His  mind  was  set  on  it ;  he  would  make  £ 300  a  year  by 
it."  He  had  also  to  sit  down  and  write  to  others  of  the  family, 
who  sent  on  the  disagreeable  news.  "  Dear  Madam,"  wrote 
one, — "  Enclosed  is  a  copy  of  a  letter  sent  me  from  David  Garrick, 
who  play'd  crookback'd  Richard,  and  does  it  again  to-night."  At 
the  close  he  adds  ruefully  :  "  This  is  his  letter,  which  I  leave  you 
to  consider,  and  am  very  sorry  for  the  contents,  but  thought  it 
best  to  communicate  them  to  you."  It  was  as  though  some  dis- 
grace had  come  on  them  all.  With  success,  however,  all  was 
condoned,  and  the  relatives  presently  became  eager  to  profit  by 
David's  glories.  Such  was  the  rise  of  this  truly  bright  and 
particular  star. 


THE  THEATRE. 


[JUNE    I,  1886. 


"  LURLINE." 

A  New  Burlesque,  in  three  Acts,  by  R.  REECE  and  II.  B.  FARNIE. 
Produced  at  the  Avenue  Theatre  for  the  first  time  on  Saturday  evening,  April  24, 1886. 


Sir  Rupert 
Skraggestein 
Lord  de  Sophtroe 
Gnome  Professor 
Baroness  von  Geyser 


Mr.  ARTHUR  ROBERTS. 
Mr.  E.  J.  LONNEN. 
Mr.  G.  MOORE. 
Mr.  S.  WILKINSON. 
Mr.  R.  DANVERS. 


Lurline , 

Anduletta 

Rivuletta 

Captain  Crayfish 
Bob 


Miss  VIOLET  CAMERON. 
Miss  PHYLLIS  BROUGHTOX. 
Miss  M.  SHIRLEY. 
Miss  E.  BROUGHTOX. 
Miss  X.  HARDISGE. 


I  have  learned,  upon  competent  authority,  that  Messrs.  Reece  and 
Farnie'slatest  bantlinghas  acquired  vigour  and  liveliness  since  theocca- 
sion  of  its  first  production  in  public  ;  that  the  action  has  been  "  pulled 
together  "  ;  that  Mr.  Roberts  has  learned  some  of  his  lines ;  that  a 
little  agreeable  waggery  has  been  infused  into  one  or  two  of  the  lyrics  ; 
and  that  the  duller  portions  of  the  dialogue  have  been,  here  and  there, 
judiciously  excised.  If  my  informant  be  correct,  "Lurline"  has  a 
good  chance  of  remaining  on  the  Avenue  bill  for  some  time  to  come,  and 
with  reasonable  profit  to  the  management  of  that  theatre.  When  I 
heard  it,  in  all  its  pristine  defectiveness,  it  held  out  but  small  promise 
of  a  long  and  prosperous  career,  although  undeniably  well  set,  mounted, 
and  dressed,  tunefully  sung  and  gracefully  danced  ;  for — with  the  ex- 
ception of  two  or  three  episodes  in  the  first  act,  brilliantly  enlivened  by 
the  grotesque  action  of  Messrs.  Danvers  and  Roberts — it  was  depres- 
singly  dull  throughout.  The  former  gentleman's  Scotch  song,  although 
its  text  was  absolutely  unintelligible  to  the  "  fause  Southron,"  was  in- 
describably exhilarating,  and  fairly  took  the  house  by  storm.  Nothing 
funnier  has  been  heard  in  any  London  theatre  within  my  remembrance. 
Scarcely  less  irresistibly  laughter-moving  was  Mr.  Roberts's  first  scene, 
which,  however,  owed  its  comic  effects  to  his  quaint  pantomime  and 
ingenious  "gagging,"  rather  than  to  any  intrinsic  humorousness  of 
the  piece  itself.  But  the  deadly  gloom  of  a  long  mock  Submarine  School 
Board  examination,  which  occupied  the  greater  part  of  the  second  act, 
and  in  which  a  scaly  and  wearisome  Professor,  injudiciously  "  made- 
up"  to  resemble  Mr.  Gladstone,  bored  a  kindly  audience  to  the  utmost 
limit  of  its  endurance,  proved  so  distressingly  depressing  that  I  did 
not  see  how  Lurline  could  possibly,  for  any  length  of  time,  bear  such 
a  crushing  weight  of  tiresomeness  on  her  shoulders.  Nor  did  the 
third  act  afford  any  rebound,  to  speak  of,  from  the  collapse  of  the 
second.  It  was  heavily  handicapped  by  the  meaningless  babblings  of 
an  idiot  peer  (Mr.  Moore  looked  the  part  to  the  life),  and  by  several 
lengthy  songs  crammed  whith  commonplaces,  to  which  even  Mr. 
Roberts  failed  to  impart  the  least  sparkle  of  gaiety.  Indeed,  but  for 


JUNE  i,  1886.]  OUR    MUSICAL-BOX.  317 

Miss  P.  Broughton's  lithe  dancing  and  the  excellent  singing  of 
Shirley  and  Miss  Cameron,  a  catastrophe  could   hardly  have  been 
averted.     These  ladies  kept  the  public  in  good  humour,  and  saved  the 
burlesque  from  summary  condemnation. 

"  Lurline"  has  no  plot  worth  mentioning  ;  it  does  not  follow  the  lines 
of  Barham's  legend,  and  is  somewhat  too  obviously  a  one-part  piece. 
Its  authors  snap  their  fingers  at  the  unities,  and  wallow  in  anachron- 
isms. As  writers  of  burlesque  they  are,  no  doubt,  fully  justified  in  so 
doing  ;  on  condition,  however,  that  their  incongruities  be  mirth-pro- 
voking. That  they  have  failed  to  observe  this  condition  exposes  them 
to  legitimate  reproach.  On  the  other  hand,  the  management  has 
spared  no  pains  or  expense  to  please  its  clients  in  the  front  of  the 
house.  Picturesque  scenery,  exiguous  costumes  worn  by  young  ladies 
of  undeniable  physical  attractions,  excellent  chorous  singing  and 
melodious  music,  familiar  to  every  English  ear,  make  up  an  entertain- 
ment which — judging  by  results — manifestly  contains  all  the  elements 
of  amusement  that  are  congenial  and  attractive  to  a  certain  class  of 
English  theatre-going  society. 


M*.  ASOVOUL 


MM.  \:,  ,.  ,.. 


"THE    LILY    OF    LEOVILLE." 

A  Comic  Opera  in  Three  Acts.    Words  by  Felix  Rcmo  and  Alfred  Murray.    Lyrics  by  Clement 
Music  by  Ivan  Caryll.  Performed  for  the  firs*  time  in  London  at  ths  Comedy  Theatre,  May  10,  Ittft. 

Chevalier  de  Lauvenay        ...  MR.  BRACT.  Lascelles        

Coriolan MR.  COKHN.  Gabrielle  de  Lcovilk- 

Meridon MR.  STEVENS.  Turlurette 

Sergeant  Rataplan    MR.  KAYK.  Madame  La  Seche   ... 

Lourdand         MR,  RIGXOLD.  Jacquette       

Everybody  who  is  musically  and  metrically  inclined  should  hear  "The 
Lily  of  Leoville."  It  is  a  rare  treat  to  listen  to  such  melodious,  well- 
constructed  music  as  M.  Ivan  Caryll's,  and  to  lyrics  so  rife  with  poetical 
feeling  and  literary  grace  as  Mr.  Clement  Scott's.  There  is  not  a  dull  or 
laboured  musical  number  in  the  opera,  M.  Caryll's  share  in  which  is 
characterised  throughout  by  genuine  spontaneity  and  charming  freshness. 
All  Mr.  Scott's  verses  attain  a  far  higher  standard  than  that  which  obtains 
in  the  vast  majority  of  English  libretti ;  whilst  three  of  his  songs,  "  If 
fickle  Hope,"  "When  Spring  is  gay,"  and  "Golden  Moon,"  are  "as  good 
as  they  make  them  "  now-a-days  ;  and  a  fourth,  "  Forget-me-not1'  might 
have  been  written  by  Herrick  without  causing  the  least  prejudice  to  that 
surpassing  lyrist's  bright  renown.  Moreover,  the  musical  setting  of  these 
metrical  gems  is  in  every  respect  worthy  of  them.  Mr.  Murray's  dialogue 
offers  a  grotesque  contrast  to  M.  Caryll's  music  and  Mr.  Scott's  verses, 
being  a  tiresome  compound  of  wishy-washy  commonplaces  and  far-fetched 
word-plays.  The  English  translator  or  "  adapter"  seems,  indeed,  to  have 
dealt  very  hardly  with  M.  Rdmo's  French  text,  which  I  have  not  been 
privileged  to  read,  but  which  must  have  been  lively  and  spirituel,  unless 
it  were  curiously  unlike  the  sparkling  prose  of  such  of  this  vivacious 
writer's  works  as  have  come  under  my  notice.  As  for  the  plot  of  the 
"  Lily  of  Leoville,"  it  neither  startles  by  its  novelty  nor  overpowers  by  its 
robustness  ;  but  it  serves  well  enough  as  a  string  whereon  to  hang  two 


3i8  THE     THEATRE.  [JUNE  i,  1886 

of  three  comic  situations,  and  a  score  or  so  of  delightful  musical  compo- 
sitions. Few  people  now-a-days  expect  much  in  the  way  of  coherent 
story  in  connection  with  comic  opera  ;  or,  if  they  do,  they  are  foredoomed 
to  disappointment.  Dishonest  guardians  and  love-sick  wards,  forged 
wills,  and  opportune  documentary  discoveries,  obdurate  peasant-fathers 
and  their  diplomatic  daughters,  imbecile  martinets  and  pusillanimous 
bumpkins ;  all  these  are  the  natural  elements  of  an  operetta  "  intrigue," 
and  we  must  not  grumble  at  their  cropping  up  with  unfailing  regularity  in 
works  of  that  class.  The  personages  of  comic  opera  are  only  human  in 
their  outward  appearance  ;  their  thoughts,  actions,  words,  and  gestures 
are  utterly  unreal ;  were  any  of  these  consistent  with  reason  or  even  with 
probability  they  would  bore  audiences  instead  of  diverting  them.  M« 
Remo's  plot  is  no  better  and  no  worse  than  a  dozen  others  that 
recur  to  my  memory.  I  wish  I  could  say  as  much  for  Mr.  Murray's 
dialogue. 

It  is  seldom  that  a  dramatic  or  musical  critic  is  able  to  praise  a  per- 
formance unreservedly,  and  yet  conscientiously;  but  I  know  of  no 
greater  pleasure  derivable  from  the  practice  of  the  critical  metier,  and  I 
gratefully  own,  on  the  present  occasion,  that  I  owe  it  to  the  actors  and 
singers  engaged  in  the  production  of  "  The  Lily  of  Leoville."  No  opera 
within  my  remembrance  has  been  better  cast  or  more  efficiently  rendered  • 
M.  Van  Biene's  orchestra,  for  vigour  and  delicacy  alike,  may  challenge 
competition  on  the  part  of  any  Continental  band,  not  excluding  that  of 
the  Wieden  and  the  Friedrich  Wilhelm  ;  and  it  is  obviously  gratifying  to 
this  accomplished  conductor  to  deal  with  numbers  so  cleverly  orches- 
trated and  entrainants  as  M.  Caryll's.  The  chorus  singing,  too,  is  simply 
unexceptionable.  Turning  to  the  "  principals,"  I  rejoice  to  say  that  Miss 
Delaporte  more  than  fulfils  the  high  promise  she  put  forward  when  I  first 
heard  her  in  the  title-role  of  Mr.  Herman's  "  Fay  o'  Five."  She  is  now 
entitled  to  rank — and  on  a  footing  of  perfect  equality — with  the  very  best 
prime-donne  of  comic  opera  in  Europe.  Here  there  is  no  one  who  can 
compare  with  her  except  Miss  St.  John.  Her  voice,  of  excellent  quality, 
is  flexible,  well-trained,  and  thoroughly  under  her  command  ;  her  face 
and  figure  are  singularly  attractive ;  her  bearing  on  the  stage  is  sprightly 
and  unaffected  •  she  sings  like  an  artist  and  speaks  like  a  lady.  Her  first 
and  last  songs — the  one  a  tender  love-ditty,  and  the  other  a  florid  aria  di 
bravura — are  equally  well  delivered,  and  nightly  elicit  thunders  of  ap- 
plause from  the  Comedy  audiences.  Miss  Melnotte's  dramatic  intelli- 
gence and  buoyant  spirits  enable  her  to  impart  vivid  interest  to  a  small 
part,  which  she  renders  with  unflagging  vivacity  that  never  for  an  instant 
degenerates  into  vulgarity.  Miss  Byron  is  an  uncommonly  arch  and 
"  fetching"  Jacquette;  whilst  Mrs.  Victor  never  fails  to  move  her  hearers 
to  laughter  when  she  speaks,  sings,  or  indulges  in  broadly  comic  "  busi- 
ness "  as  the  amorous  landlady  of  the  "  Little  Corporal."  Mr.  Bracy 
sings  delightfully,  and  looks  all  that  an  operatic  hero  should  look  in  the 
romantic  role  of  Georges  de  Lauvenay.  Mr.  Coffin's  fine  voice,  irreproach- 
able intonation,  and  engaging  appearance  have  never  been  displayed  to 
greater  advantage  than  in  his  impersonation  of  a  provincial  poet, 


TUNE  i,  1886.]  OUR  MUSICAL-BOX.  319 

songster,   and  improvisatore ;    Mr.   Stevens  makes   a  suflici--mly   sinister 
villain,    Mr.   Kayo    an    amusingly  idiotic   military   \vt.-ran,    Mr.    K: 
a   good   pig-headed    farmer,    and  Mr.   Ashford  a  droll,   cowardly  clod- 
hopper. 

It  seems  almost  invidious  to  single  out  any  particular  musical  number 
of  the  "Lily"  for  special  praise,  where   all  are  so  deserving  of  un-1 
laudation;  but  I  cannot  forbear  from  calling  attention  to  iordi- 

nary  beauty  and  musical  cleverness  of  the  sexU-tt  and  chorus,  "Now  to 
church,"  \vith  which  Act  II.  is  brought  to  a  conclusion.  M.  Caryll  may 
boldly  base  his  claim  to  be  a  musician  of  mark  upon  this  truly  admirable 
composition  ;  and  no  one  properly  qualified  to  pronoin  :ient  upon 

the  imaginative  and  constructive  faculties  of  a  musical  composer  \vi. 
him  nay. 


During  the  past  month  London  was    delivered  up,  musically  speak- 
ing,   to    the     tender    mercies    of    concert-givers,     who     h,: 
thing    their    own    way,    unvexed    by  rivality    on    the    part    of    Italian, 
German,  French,  or  even  English  opera  companies.    Their  audiences  are 
by  no  means  identical  with  those  which  attend  performances  of  op< 
and  burlesque  ;   wherefore  the  production  of  several  novelties  in  t 
lines  of  entertainment  was  not  to  be  held  accountable  for  t  :ity  of 

some  of  the  gatherings  assembled  in  our  leading  concert-rooms  to  listen 
to  orchestral  entertainments  of  the  first  class.  I  do  not  refer  to  the 
audiences  of  matinees  given,  u  by  kind  permission,"  in  private  houses ; 
these  "morning-afternoons"  always  draw  crowds  of  dead-heads,  acquaint- 
ances of  the  bcneficiaire  and  friends  of  the  assistant  artistes,  who  make  a 
good  show,  applaud  freely,  and  justify  the  critic-in-waiting  in  recording 
the  interesting  fact  that  "  Madame  So-and-So's  annual  matint't-n::-. 
was  attended  by  a  numerous,  fashionable,  and  enthusiastic  audience." 
The  empty  benches  I  have  in  my  mind's  »  i-onspiruous  last  month 

at  the  opening  concert  of  a  yearly  series  which,  until  this  year, 
constituted  one  of  the  leading  attractions  of  the  London  musical  season 
— I  mean  the  Richter  concerts  given  at  St.  James's  Hall.  This  falling 
off,  which  is  certainly  not  attributable  to  any  deterioration  in  the  quality 
of  the  performances  in  question,  may  probably  be  accounted  for  by  the 
circumstance  that  the  metropolitan  musical  public  is  of  late  become 
somewhat  less  conservative  in  its  likes  and  dislikes  than  it  was  a  few 
years  ago.  Its  capacity  for  hero-worship  is  as  strong  as  ever— testt  the 
reception  accorded  to  Canon  Liszt,  of  whose  larger  compositions  the 
throngs  that  lionised  him  a  few  weeks  ago  knew  next  to  nothing — but 
much  less  durable  than  of  yore.  It  may  be,  too,  that  r*a  business 

advisers  err  in  assuring  him  that  the  special  character  of  his  prograi 
is  altogether  sufficiently  attractive  to  secure  eight  or  ten  "full  houses" 
year  after  year ;    and  that  his  regular  repetition,  in  the  course  of  each 
successive  series,  of  certain   orchestral  works   by   V-  i.iszt,    and 

Beethoven  does  not  deter  many  hundreds  of  paying  music-lovers  from 
attending  his  concerts.  The  argument  of  Richter's  counsellors — an 
argument  which  he  himself,  I  have  reason  to  believe,  considers  to  be 


320  THE     THE  A  TRE.  rjUNE  If  I886. 

sound  and  convincing — is  that  the  works  in  question  require  to  be 
frequently  heard  in  order  to  be  adequately  appreciated,  and  that  the 
oftener  they  are  performed  the  better  their  hearers  like  them.  If  the 
audiences  that  are  content  to  pay  fifteen  shillings  apiece  for  sofa-stalls  to 
listen  to  an  instrumental  performance  were  exclusively  composed  of 
earnest  musicians,  I  should  say,  with  Richter,  that  such  morceaux  as  the 
Tannhaeuser  Overture,  the  Siegfried  Idyll,  the  Meistersinger  Vorspiel 
and  Introduction  to  Act  III.,  the  Walkueren-Ritt,  and  Parsifal  Selection 
— not  forgetting  the  two  Liszt  Rhapsodies  that  he  reproduces  every 
season — cannot  be  played  too  often,  seeing  that  they  most  undeniably 
improve  upon  acquaintance.  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  audiences  of  the 
above  class  are  considerably  leavened  by  persons  uninformed  by  a 
genuine  taste  for  music  ;  persons  who  say  (and  probably  believe)  that 
they  "  like "  music ;  who  are  conservative  in  regard  to  plain-sailing 
rubbish  and  intolerant  of  intricate  magnificence ;  who  will  listen  a 
hundred  times,  with  ever-increasing  enjoyment,  to  "  My  Pretty  Jane," 
and  are  bored  to  death  by  a  second  hearing  of  the  Choral  Symphony ; 
who  incessantly  crave  for  novelty  in  connection  with  great  works,  which 
they  cannot  understand,  and  fall  into  raptures  over  old  familiar  tenants 
of  the  barrel-organ.  When  these  persons,  belonging  as  they  do  in  vast 
numbers  to  the  worlds  of  wealth  and  fashion,  find  out  that  the  Richter 
orchestra  plays  the  same  pieces  year  after  year,  they  cease — or  a  good 
many  of  them  cease — to  subscribe  to  the  series  of  concerts  given 
annually  by  the  illustrious  Viennese  Kapellmeister ;  and  the  vacancies 
caused  by  their  defection  are  apparently  not  filled  up  by  dilettanti  of 
higher  cultivation  and  stauncher  temper.  In  view  of  this  stubborn  fact, 
it  is  to  be  hoped  that  Dr.  Hans  will  recognise  the  expediency  of 
renovating  his  programmes  by  the  aid  of  works  less  exclusively  than 
heretofore  drawn  from  one  or  two  creative-  sources,  thereby,  so  to  speak, 
making  a  fresh  bid  for  the  extraordinary  popularity  he  achieved  in  this 
metropolis  a  (few  years  ago,  but  which  appears  to  be  at  present  on 
the  wane. 


Madame  De  Fonblanque-CampbelPs  annual  matinee  is  always  an 
interesting  event  of  the  London  musical  season,  being  distinguished 
from  the  majority  of  entertainments  ejusdem  generis  by  the  genuine  worth 
of  its  programme  attractions.  This  year  the  concert  in  question  came 
off  on  the  i4th  ult.  at  Lady  Abergavenny's  town  house  in  Dover  Street, 
and  was  numerously  attended.  Seldom  has  the  gifted  beneficiaire' s 
•  beautiful  voice  been  heard  to  greater  advantage.  It  has  lost  nothing  of 
its  pristine  richness  and  sweetness,  and  is  no  less  thoroughly  under  Mrs. 
Campbell's  control  than  it  was  in  her  pre-nuptial  days.  Long  ago  Miss 
De  Fonblanque's  faultless  tone-production,  pure  intonation,  and  refined 
musical  intelligence  placed  her  in  the  very  front  rank  of  English  concert- 
room  vocalists,  and  she  continues  to  hold  her  own  in  that  distinguished 
and  enviable  position.  At  her  latest  matinee  she  sang  a  new  song  by  Mr. 
Wellings,  called  "  Give  me  thy  love,"  with  a  taste  and  feeling  that  held 
her  hearers  spell  bound  until  the  close  of  the  melody,  when  they  loudly 


JUNE  i,  1886.]  OUR     MUSICAL-BOX.  321 

re-demanded  it,  and  would  not  be  denied.  A  similar  mark  of  public 
favour  was  accorded  to  her  for  her  sympathetic  rendering  of  Gounod's 
somewhat  hackneyed  Berceuse.  In  conjunction  with  Miss  Damian— 
another  vocal  artiste  of  whom  this  country  has  good  reason  to  be  proud 
— she  interpreted  Rubinstein's  dainty  duet,  "  Lied  der  Voeglein,"  in  an 
entirely  charming  manner.  Mr.  Campbell  may  be  sincerely  congratulated 
upon  the  circumstance  that  his  clever  ballad,  "  When  you  and  I  were 
young,"  was  introduced  to  public  notice  by  so  accomplished  and 
splendidly  endowed  a  singer  as  Miss  Damian,  whose  superb  voice  was 
also  well  displayed  in  Gounod's  effective  song,  "The  Worker."  Mr. 
Campbell  himself  sang  a  plagiaristic  "aria  "  by  Signor  Mattei  very  well- 
much  better,  indeed,  than  it  deserved — and  took  a  highly  effective  part 
in  several  concerted  pieces  of  more  or  less  musical  merit.  Nothing 
could  be  more  satisfactory  to  every  musician  present  on  the  occasion 
referred  to  than  Bernard  Lane's  singing  of  poor  Freddy  Clay's  "  Sands 
of  Dee,"  one  of  that  true  melodist's  most  beautiful  and  touching  inspira- 
tions. Of  Isidore  de  Lara's  delivery  of  "Mine  to-day,"  "All  my  all," 
and  "  Je  vais  aimer"  I  have  nothing  new  to  say.  It  was,  as  it  a'. 
has  been  since  he  first  produced  those  charming  works  in  public,  absolute 
perfection.  Madame  De  Fonblanqne-Campbell  was  further  assisted  by 
Misses  Lang,  Larcom,  and  Waugh,  the  Chevalier  Ganz,  and  Mr.  Charles 
Marshall,  all  of  whom  supplied  valuable  contributions  to  the  afternoon's 
entertainment.  At  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cheshire's  "  Morning  Concert"  (given, 
of  course,  during  the  afternoon)  there  was  a  copious  display  of  skilful 
harpism  and  pianism  by  the  concert-givers,  ably  supported  by  Mdlle.  De 
Lido,  the  Countess  AH  Sadowska,  who  recited  the  poem,  "Three 
Mothers,"  with  extraordinary  spirit  and  feeling ;  Miss  D' Alton,  who 
moved  the  audience  profoundly  by  her  admirable  rendering  of  Tosti's 

At  Vespers"  and  Hope  Temple's  "Old  Garden";  Mr.  Barrington 
Foote,  whose  bright  and  tuneful  singing  of  "Ask  nothing  more"  and 
'The  Three  Beggars"  elicited  hearty  and  well-deserved  applause; 
Messrs.  Henderson,  Webster,  Yearsley,  and  Carli.  On  the  whole,  a  good 

a  i  pleasant  entertainment.  The  inimitable  veteran  Lindsay  Sloper 
presided  at  the  piano  with  the  grace  and  efficiency  that  age,  in  his  case, 
cannot  dull,  or  custom  stale. 

On  the  tenth  of  this  month  Adelina  Patti  will  achieve  her  "  heart's 
desire,"  that  being  the  date  fixed  for  her  marriage  to  M.  Ernest  Nicolini, 
the  well-known  operatic  tenor  singer.  The  civil  ceremony,  as  I  am 
informed  by  the  diva  herself,  will  take  place  in  Swansea,  and  the 
ecclesiastical  rites  will  be  celebrated  in  the  church  of  the  parish  in  which 
Craig-y-Nos  Castle  is  situate.  International  guests  have  been  bidden  to 
the  wedding  in  considerable  number.  Dr.  Edward  Hanclick,  the  first  of 
living  musical  critics,  is  coming  from  Vienna  ;  Le*o  DeMibes,  the  composer 
of  "Sylvia,"  "  Coppelia,"  and  "  Lakme","  and  Francois  Magnard,  the 
editor  of  "  Figaro,"  from  Paris  ;  and  several  other  musicians  of  fame  from 
Italy  and  Germany.  Splendid  festivities  will  be  held  at  the  castle  on  the 
"  Rock  of  Night,"  and  the  hearts  of  the  neighbouring  villagers  will  be 


322  THE    THEATRE.  QUNE  i,  1886. 

made  glad  by  abundance  of  good  food  and  drink,  bands  of  music,  open- 
air  sports,  and  a  magnificent  display  of  fireworks.  Three  hundred  poor 
school-children  of  the  valley  will,  moreover,  have  substantial  reasons  to 
remember  the  "  Good  Fairy's  "  wedding-day  for  a  year  or^two  to  come,  it 
being  her  intention  to  rig  them  out  afresh  from  top  to  toe  on  that  joyful 
occasion,  as  well  as  to  entertain  them  in  the  castle-grounds.  Madame 
Patti's  many  friends  in  this  country  will  rejoice  to  hear  that  she  has 
returned  from  her  long  professional  tour  on  the  Continent  in  far  better 
health  than  that  which  she  enjoyed  when  she  left  England  last  November. 
During  her  absence  abroad  she  cleared  over  .£15,000,  although  her 
expenses  were  unusually  heavy  by  reason  of  the  great  distances  between 
the  respective  scenes  of  her  operatic  engagements,  and  earned  a  small 
fortune  for  her  impresario  to  boot.  Her  successes  in  Portugal  and 
Roumania  were  stupendous.  At  Lisbon,  every  place  in  the  Royal  Opera 
House  was  taken,  and  at  unheard-of  prices,  for  eight  consecutive 
performances  of  "  Carmen,"  she  sustaining  the  title-role  ;  and  each  night 
she  was  called  before  the  curtain  from  thirty  to  forty  times.  Her 
triumphs  in  Bucharest  have  already  been  recorded  in  the  columns  of  this 
magazine. 

Madame  Ernest  de  Hesse-Wartegg  (Minnie  Hauk)  concluded  her 
Californian  engagement  at  San  Francisco  on  April  16  with  a  brilliant  per- 
formance of  the  title-role  in  Massenet's  "  Manon,"  having  previously 
achieved  a  series  of  splendid  successes  in  the  parts  of  Marguerite,  Car- 
men, Selika,  Zerlina,  and  Mignon.  At  the  close  of  the  third  act  of 
"Manon,"  on  the  above-mentioned  occasion,  Signor  Arditi,  acting  as  the 
mandatory  of  a  committee  of  leading  San  Francisco  citizens,  presented 
to  the  accomplished  prima  donna  a  magnificent  wreath  of  mimic  laurel 
and  oak  leaves,  executed  in  pure  Californian  gold,  its  branches  being 
connected  by  a  broad  silvern  riband,  in  the  centre  of  which  is  set  a  large 
and  beautiful  specimen  of  the  rich  gold-quartz  indigenous  to  the  great 
Pacific  State.  The  wreath  was  offered  to  Madame  de  Wartegg  on  a  blue 
velvet  cushion,  to  which  was  affixed  a  massive  golden  tablet  bearing  the 
inscription  "  To  Minnie  Hauk,  from  her  admirers  in  San  Francisco,"  and 
was  accompanied  by  a  masterpiece  of  art-calligraphy,  couched  in  the 
following  flattering  terms  : — "The  undersigned,  citizens  of  San  Francisco, 
herewith  have  the  honour  to  present  you  with  a  laurel  wreath  of  Cali- 
fornian gold.  They  pray  you  to  consider  this  offering  as  a  token  of  their 
esteem  and  admiration,  which  you  have  so  fully  deserved  by  your  artistic 
impersonations  of  leading  operatic  parts,  videlicet,  Carmen,  Manon, 
Zerlina,  Selika,  Marguerite,  and  Mignon,  during  the  opera  season  of 
1886  at  the  Grand  Opera  House  of  San  Francisco."  When  the  intelli- 
gence of  this  tasteful  and  magnificent  conferment  reached  me  Madame 
de  Wartegg  had  already  left  California  en  route  for  London,  where  she 
proposes  to  sojourn  during  the  months  of  June  and  July.  The  San 
Francisco  musical  critics  have  written  enthusiastically  about  the  freshness 
and  elasticity  of  her  voice  and  the  spirited  intelligence  of  her  acting.  I 
hope  the  London  public  will  be  enabled  by  one  or  other  of  the  chief 


JUNE  i,  1886.]  OUR    MUSICAL-BOX.  323 

operatic  impress  to  hear  and  sec  her  in  some  or  her  favourite  roles,  for 
there  are  few  vocal  and  dramatic  artistes  living  whose  performances  are 
so  thoroughly  satisfactory  as  hers. 


Amongst  the  newly-published  music  sent  to  me  for  notice  during  the 
past  month  are  the  following  vocal  and  instrumental  pirrrs,  issued  hv  the 
eminent  firm  of  Chappell  and  Co.,  50,  New  Bond  Street.  "An  1 
song,"  words  by  Alice  Lowthian,  music  by  Caroline  Lowthian.  There 
must  obviously  be  a  large  demand  for  compositions  of  this  class,  which 
have  been  suggested  to  so  many  English  song-writers  by  Arthur  Sullivan's 
"  Lost  Chord,"  or  first-class  London  publishers  would  assuredly  not  put 
them  in  circulation.  Intrinsic  merit,  for  the  most  part,  has  but  little  to  do 
with  their  production  in  type  at  the  nominal  price  of  four  shillings  apiece. 
This  particular  specimen  of  the  devotional  drawing-room  lyric  is  neither 
less  gloomy  nor  more  original  than  its  countless  predecessors  in  that 
lugubrious  line.  I  need  scarcely  say  that  it  is  written  for  a  deep  contralto 

voice— they  all  are. "  Love's  Flight,"  written  and  composed  by   Lord 

Henry  Somerset.  This  song,  I  observe,  "  may  be  sung  without 
permission."  That  would  appear  to  be  the  only  intelligible  inducement 
for  its  performance.  The  words  are  clumsy,  ungrammatical,  and  plentifully 
larded  with  false  metaphors  ;  their  setting  is  commonplace  and  platitu- 
dinarian. Song-writing  is  evidently  not  Lord  Henry  Somerset's  speciality- 
He  must  be  able  to  do  something  else  better.  Were  he  not  a  person  of 
high  rank  and  social  position  by  birth,  it  might  be  worth  his  while  to  take- 
into  consideration  Mark  Twain's  memorable  suggestion,  and  expend  his 
superfluous  energy  in  chopping  wood,  combining  that  healthful  pursuit — 
after  the  manner  of  a  conspicuous  cotemporary  politician — with  the 

practice  of  legislation. "Mirage   Valse"    and  "Short    and    Sweet'' 

(polka),  by  Caroline  Lowthian.  The  former  is  a  really  good  dancing  or 
singing  waltz,  provided  with  a  strong  and  striking  melody  ;  the  lati 

cheery  polka  enough,  as  such   "compositions"   go. "Hesperus, 

waltz  by  Luke  Wheeler,  will  probably  achieve  popularity.  It  is  tuneful, 
bright,  and  extremely  catching.  Of  several  other  musical  publications 
that  have  lately  reached  me  I  will  say  nothing  in  this  place,  except  that  I 
sincerely  hope  I  may  never  be  condemned  to  suffer  the  peinc  forte  dure  of 
listening  to  them. 

WM.  BEATTY-KINGSTON. 


NEW   SERIES — VOL.  VII. 


324  THE   THEATRE.  [JUNE  lf  l886. 


©ur 


"THE     PICKPOCKET." 

A  new  farcical  comedy,  in  three  acts  and  four  scenes,  adapted  from  the  German  by  GEORGB  P.  HAWTREY. 
Produced  at  the  Globe  Theatre,  on  Saturday,  April  24,  1886. 


Inspector  of  Police       ...  Mr.  NORMAN  BENT. 

James       Mr.  HIDER. 

Freda  Grumbledon      ...  Miss  VANK  FEATHERSTON. 

Mrs.   Hope      Miss  CISSY  GRAHAM  E. 

Annette    Miss  GARCIA. 

Miss  Maria  Trumper     ...  Mrs.  LEIGH  MURRAY. 


Gregory  Grumbledon Mr.  W.  J.  HILL. 

Frederick  Hope Mr.  E.  J.  HENLEY. 

Osmond  Hewett Mr.  C.  H.  HAWTREY. 

Mr.  Walter  Johnson Mr.  T.  SQUIKE. 

Dr.  Shaw       Mr.  A.  G.  ANDREWS. 

Andrew Mr.  W.  S.  PENLEY. 

"The  Pickpocket"  is  called  a  farcical  comedy,  but  it  is  simply  one 
of  the  flimsiest  farces  ever  put  upon  the  stage,  and  there  is  not  a  trace 
of  the  comedy  element  in  it.  Other  writers  of  these  three-act  farces  are 
content  to  call  them  by  their  right  names,  and  Mr.  G.  P.  Hawtrey  should 
cut  the  word  comedy  out  of  the  playbill.  It  is  said  to  be  adapted  from 
the  German,  but  the  original  piece  was  hardly  worth  transferring  to  the 
English  stage,  if  "The  Pickpocket  "  gives  us  a  fair  idea  of  it.  The  story 
runs  in  this  wise  :  Mr.  Frederick  Hope,  a  jealous  husband,  follows  his 
wife  down  to  Southbourne-on-Sea,  because  he  suspects  a  young  man, 
Osmond  Hewett,  has  gone  after  her.  In  order  to  watch  her  unobserved, 
Mr.  Hope  disguises  himself  and  takes  the  name  of  Johnson,  and  that 
happens  to  be  the  designation  of  a  lunatic,  who,  with  his  keeper,  is 
expected  at  the  watering-place.  What  more  natural  than  that  Mr.  Hope 
should  be  taken  for  the  maniac,  for  his  jealousy  makes  him  very  irritable, 
and  much  more  fun  might  be  obtained  from  this  misunderstanding  than 
Mr.  Hawtrey  manages  for  us.  Hewett  has  come  down  in  chase  of  Freda 
Grumbledon,  a  young  lady  who  is  staying  at  Southbourne  with  her  uncle, 
Gregory  Grumbledon,  who  imagines  himself  a  great  invalid.  Here  the 
crowning  joke  of  the  piece  comes  in,  for  Mr.  Hewett  persuades  Grumble- 
don that  he  can  cure  him  by  massage,  puts  him  on  two  chairs,  and 
proceeds  to  knead  him  like  bread.  When  the  reader  knows  that  the 
part  of  Grumbledon  is  taken  by  Mr.  W.  J.  Hill,  he  will  see  what  a  refined 
and  humorous  incident  is  thus  introduced.  It  seems  that  Mrs.  Hope 
is  suspicious  that  Johnson  is  her  husband.  She  employs  Hewett  to 
get  hold  of  his  handkerchief  and  look  at  his  luggage,  which 
leads  him  to  be  suspected  of  being  a  pickpocket,  but  nothing 
comes  of  it.  All  is  afterwards  explained,  and  what  an  able  critic 
has  justly  called  a  "  very  empty  piece  of  buffoonery,"  comes  to  an  end. 
Nor  does  the  dialogue,  though  occasionally  smart,  atone  for  the  weakness 
of  the  plot.  As  Dr.  Johnson  said  of  "  The  Rehearsal,"  "  It  has  not  wit 
enough  to  keep  it  sweet."  As  to  the  acting,  Mr.  Hill  looked  very  comic 
as  the  old  invalid,  but  as  a  mere  excrescence  in  the  story,  while  Mr. 
Penley  has  allotted  to  him  the  small  part  of  a  waiter.  He  makes  a  very 


JUNE  i,  1886.]  OUR     PLAY-BOX. 


325 


clever  bit  of  character  of  it,  but  the  role  is  unworthy  of  him.  Mr.  K.  J. 
Henley  sadly  overacted  the  part  of  Frederick  Hope.  He  made  the  whole 
play  impossible,  and  no  man  conducting  himself  so  absurdly  would 
have  been  allowed  to  be  at  large  for  an  hour.  Mr.  C.  H.  Hawtrey  was 
successful  in  making  Osmond  Hewett  what  it  is  to  be  supposed  the  author 
meant  him  to  be,  as  offensive  a  cad  as  ever  deserved  to  be  kicked  out  of 
a  drawing-room.  Mr.  A.  G.  Andrews  may  be  commended  as  the  doctor, 
and  Mr.  Squire  did  all  that  was  possible  with  the  very  shadowy  part  of 
Mr.  Johnson,  who  might  surely,  with  much  advantage  to  the  plot,  have 
been  made  a  more  important  personage.  Miss  Cissy  Grahame  had  but  little 
to  do  as  Mrs.  Hope,  but  did  that  little  pleasantly  and  well ;  Miss  Vane 
Featherston  played  brightly  and  prettily  as  Freda  Grumbledon,  and  Mrs. 
Leigh  Murray  gave  due  effect  to  the  part  of  Hope's  maiden  aunt.  The 
scenery  was  adequate,  and  the  piece  went  briskly,  while  it  is  only  fair  to 
say  that  it  was  much  applauded  on  the  first  night,  though  there  were  loud 
sounds  of  disapprobation  as  well,  on  the  fall  of  the  curtain.  One  would 
imagine  that  a  piece  which  derives  the  chief  part  of  its  humour  from  the 
rotundity  of  Mr.  Hill's  figure  would  soon  pall  on  the  public,  but  it  would 
be  rash  to  prophesy  concerning  the  career  of  "  The  Pickpocket."  It  may 
be  said,  however,  that  if  it  does  run,  the  art  of  writing  a  successful  play 
is  much  easier  than  some  of  us  have  thought  it. 

H.  SAVILE  CLARKE. 


"  CLITO." 

An  original  tragedy,  in  five  acts,  by  Sydney  Grundy  and  Wilson  Barrett 
Produced  at  the  Princess's  Theatre  on  Saturday,  May  1,  1886. 


Corax Mr.  W.  A.  ELUOTT. 

Mliua Mr.  H.  DB  SOLLA. 

Irene  Mim  CARUB  Coon. 

Chloe Mi*.  EVA  WILMX. 

Selene    Miss  GARTH. 

Neone    Miss  ALICE  BKLMORR. 


Clito  Mr.  WILSON  BARRETT. 

Helle  Miss  EASTLAKK. 

Glaucias Mr.  E.  S.  WILLARD. 

Critias     Mr.  CHARLES  HU>SON. 

Theramenes Mr.  AISTIN   MKI-KURD. 

Xenocles    Mr.  J.  H.  CLYNDS. 

Dares Mr.  C.  Frwox.  Libya Mi»  BTBOH. 

Atys   Mr.  S.  M.  CARSON.        | 

In  the  midst  of  the  scene  of  wild  enthusiasm  which  greeted  "Clito" 
on  the  first  night  of  its  production  it  was  difficult  to  form  an  unbiased 
opinion  of  this  daring  play.     Calm  reflection,  away  from  the  glamour  of 
the  footlights,  however,  makes  the  task  comparatively  easy.      Mr.  Sidney 
Grundy  and  Mr.  Wilson  Barrett  have  given  us  a  story  terribly  true  and 
realistic  ;  a  page  of  life  with  all  the  bloom  rubbed  off,  where   woman's 
infamy  and  man's  guilty  weakness  are  shown  to  us  in  all  their  nakedness. 
Truly  the  manager   charms    our    eyes    with    exquisite  stage    pictures, 
gorgeous  stage  appointments,  and  beautiful  and  artistic  dresses.       The 
acting  is  admirable,  the  construction  of  the  play  good,  and  the  treatment 
vigorous  to  a  fault.     This  in  great  part  carried  away  the  audience,  for  the 
story  is  told  so  swiftly  that  it  absolutely  gives  the  spectator  no  breathing 
time,   but   keeps  him   at   fever   heat  unto  the   very    end.      No   doubt 
a  note  of  warning   is  sounded   to  the   too  self-reliant,  who  think   they 
cannot  fall ;  and  no  one  can  say  this   play  is  immoral,    for  woman  and 
man  meet  their  punishment  in  the  shape  most  terrible  to  each — she  by 
the  loss  of  life,  he  by  the  loss  of  honour  and  self-esteem.       Yet  what  is 

Z  2 


326  THE    THEATRE.  [JUNE  i,  1886. 

gained  by  this  sorry  spectacle  of  how  low  poor  humanity  may  fall? 
Though  luxurious  Athens  in  its  days  of  pomp  and  shame  is  brought  before 
our  eyes,  making  one's  brain  dizzy  with  its  heavily-scented  air  of  revelry, 
we  come  out  of  this  unhealthy  atmosphere  untainted  it  is  true,  for  vice 
appears  to  us  in  its  most  abject  and  repulsive  form,  but  deeply  saddened 
to  think  there  are  women  so  lost  to  shame  that  one  can  feel  no  pity  for 
them.  Why  put  aside  the  doctrine  that  there  is  some  little  particle  of  good 
left  in  the  worst  of  women  or  men  ?  If  it  be  not  an  entirely  true  one,  it 
is  at  least  a  consoling  one.  Every  true  woman  would  like  to  feel  that  her 
erring  sisters  are  not  past  all  redemption.  Truly  the  world  is  hard  and 
uncharitable  enough  ;  why  help  to  give  the  scoffers  the  right  to  sneer  ? 
There  is  much  in  real  life  that  is  bad  and  despicable,  much  that  forces 
itself  upon  one,  and  goes  far  to  dispel  one's  illusions ;  still  there  is  much 
good  and  some  poetry  left.  Aye,  I  maintain  it,  even  in  our  ordinary 
every-day  life  there  is  a  tinge  of  poetry  ;  and  if  true  and  pure  women  and 
noble  and  honest  men  are  in  the  minority,  as  many  would  have  us  believe, 
all  the  more  reason  why  they  should  be  brought  to  our  notice.  We  are 
all  over-anxious  to  hide  the  diseases  of  the  body  ;  why  should  we  gloat 
over  those  of  the  mind,  which  are  far  more  hideous  ?  If  we  know  of 
them  we  ought  to  be  anxious  to  forget  that  such  things  are,  and  the  few 
who  are  happy  enough  to  be  ignorant  of  the  seamy  side  of  life  should 
not  be  cruelly  awakened  to  it.  The  story  runs  thus  : — 

Athens  is  groaning  under  the  rule  of  the  Thirty  Tyrants  (404  B.C.),  but 
the  hate  of  the  people  is  especially  directed  against  the  mistress  of  Critias, 
Helle  the  beautiful,  the  accursed.  One  alone  in  this  corrupt  city  has 
dared  to  express  his  opinion  of  her  publicly,  and  this  is  the  young  sculptor 
Clito,  who  has  never  chanced  to  see  her.  His  words  have  been  reported 
to  Helle,  who  burns  to  revenge  herself.  As  a  first  step,  she  causes 
the  award  in  a  competition  for  a  statue  to  be  given  to  another 
sculptor,  though  Clito  had  all  the  votes  in  his  favour.  This  is  but 
poor  satisfaction  to  her  cat-like  ferocity  ;  but  she  finds  willing  counsel  in 
an  old  admirer,  the  profligate  young  Glaucias.  He  has  seen  Clito's 
foster-sister,  and  Irene  (another  Virginia)  has  found  favour  in  his  eyes. 
Glaucias  and  Helle  make  a  compact :  he  will  help  her  to  be  revenged  on 
Clito,  and  she  will  help  him  to  get  Irene  in  his  power.  They  are  still 
planning  when  Irene  appears,  seeking  her  father,  the  old  sculptorXenocles, 
whom  she  expects  to  find  at  work  on  the  pedestal  of  the  forthcoming 
statue ;  he  has  already  gone,  however,  and  Helle  and  Glaucias,  seizing 
this  opportunity,  speak  kindly  to  the  girl,  and  Helle  bids  her  follow  one 
of  her  slaves,  who  will  lead  her  to  where  her  father  has  gone.  The  confiding 
Irene  is  soon  handed  over  to  a  jailer  ;  but  she  is  encountered  by  Clito,  who 
rouses  the  people  in  a  fine  speech,  and  demands  of  Critias  that  she  should 
be  set  at  liberty,  Critias,  advised  by  his  councellor,  Theramenes,  deems 
it  prudent  to  give  way  to  the  angry  populace.  "  It  was  a  mistake,"  he 
says  ;  "  she  is  free."  So  ends  the  first  act.  The  next  takes  us  to  Clito's 
studio  ;  the  young  man  brings  back  Irene  to  her  father's  arms,  and  he  tells 
them  that  the  people,  roused  at  last,  are  preparing  for  rebellion,  and  have 
chosen  him  as  their  leader  Clito  again  flings  curses  at  Helle,  little 


i,  1886. j  OUR  PLAY-BOX.  327 

.heeding  the  warning  of  Xenocle?,  who  tells  him  that  this  dangerous  syren 
is  so  beautiful  that  she  seems  "  half  angel,  half  devil";  this  impetuous 
youth  dares  fate,  and  declares  such  a  woman  could  never  bring  him  under 
her  sway.  Left  alone  with  Irene,  he  extols  his  love  of  art,  and  art  alone. 
Irene  looks  upon  Clito  as  the  embodiment  of  all  that  is  good  and  noble  ; 
to  him  her  pure  young  heart  has  been  secretly  given,  but  he  looks  upon 
her  as  a  sister  only  :  though  the  young  man  is  by  no  means  too  modest 
to  have  perceived  the  impression  he  has  made,  and  when  poor  Irene, 
under  covered  words,  expresses  her  sadness  at  being  so  little  to  him,  he 
tells  her  the  story  of  Psyche,  who,  not  content  with  the  happiness  that 
fell  to  her  lot,  yearned  for  more  and  lost  all,  no  doubt  comparing  himself 
to  the  god.  All  this  self-satisfied  preaching  is  not  pleasing  in  one  who 
.•soon  proves  himself  so  weak.  At  Irene's  request,  he  also  describes  his 
ideal  woman,  indeed,  an  ideal  alone  could  be  so  perfect.  Alas !  as 
vGlaucias  remarks  later  on,  "  Art  is  immortal,  but  artists  are  mortal."  At 
^he  latter' s  instigation,  Helle  has  decided  that  the  best  revenge  will  be  to 
make  Clito  infamous  in  the  eyes  of  the  patriots.  She  visits  his  studio 
under  an  assumed  name,  presenting  herself  as  a  patroness  of  Art,  and 
gives  Clito  a  sitting  for  her  portrait.  Her  sensuous  beauty  fires  the  soul 
of  the  artist,  and  kindles  the  passion  of  the  man ;  the  young  boaster  is 
caught  in  the  toils  even  before  the  syren  has  woven  her  net  around  him. 
-She  leaves  him  in  an  enthusiastic  trance  ;  but  when  Xenocles,  on  his 
.return,  tells  him  that  the  woman  he  has  sketched  is  Helle,  he  flings  the 
-panel  down,  and  tramples  it  under  foot.  This  is  but  a  vain  attempt  to 
deceive  himself;  it  is  not  Helle's  image  which  he  has  flung  in  the  dust, 
tout  his  own  soul,  which,  rudely  torn  from  its  Olympian  heights  of  ideal 
dreams,  he  has  cast  at  the  feet  of  the  courtesan.  In  the  third  act,  we 
find  that  on  his  way  to  meet  the  other  patriots,  he  goes  to  Helle's  house 
or  the  purpose,  so  he  tells  himself,  of  upbraiding  her.  In  his  conversation 
-with  her  in  his  studio,  he  had  inadvertently  told  her  of  the  meeting,  and  it 
{had  been  arranged  between  her,  Critias,  and  Glaucias,  that  soldiers  should 
be  sent  to  disperse  the  people  with  their  swords,  telling  them  that  Clito 
Jiad  turned  traitor.  Meanwhile,  she  is  to  detain  him,  for  well  she  knows 
that  he  will  come,  by  using  her  power  of  fascination  on  him,  and  enticing 
3bim  to  partake  of  some  drugged  wine.  Alas !  poor  fool,  when  he  has  flung 
;at  her  curses  that  only  amuse  her,  while  they  torture  him  to  utter,  she 
:has  only  to  call  herself  the  victim  of  slander  and  envy  to  find  a  ready 
listener.  Clito's  weakness  asserts  itself  at  this  juncture,  but  his  re  Jeeming 
point  lies  in  the  words  spoken  by  Helle  to  Critias  shortly  before :  "  These 
pure,  honest  men  see  in  the  woman  they  love  the  reflection  of  their  own 
soul,"  and  are  easily  and  willingly  deceived.  She  acknowledges  to  Clito 
that  appearances  are  against  her,  but  all  her  supposed  victims  were  dis- 
appointed persecutors ;  throughout,  she  has  remained  chaste  and  pure, 
and  never  loved  till  now.  In  broken  accents  she  protests  that  she  love  shim, 
and  him  alone  ;  that  her  one  dream  of  joy  would  be  to  be  his  humble  wife  ; 
she  clings  to  him,  and  appeals  to  him  with  soft,  endearing,  and  despair- 
ing words ;  and  when,  in  a  last  struggle  with  himself,  he  tries  to  tear 
Himself  away  and  leave  her,  with  a  stifled  cry  and  heart-breaking  sobs 


328  THE   THE  A  TRE.  [JUNE  i,  1886 

she  falls  like  one  who  has  received  a  death-blow — and  he  stays.  The 
fourth  act,  a  masterpiece  of  stage  effect,  is  the  most  unpalatable  ;  it  is  a 
sorry  sight  to  find  that  Clito,  still  her  guest,  has  forgotten  friends, 
countrymen,  duty,  in  this  feverish  dream  of  love.  'Tis  true  he  still  believes 
in  her ;  he  longs  to  take  her  away  from  the  company  of  such  men  as 
Critias  and  Glaucias,  and  entreats  her  to  redeem  her  promise  to  be  his 
wife,  and  leave  this  life  of  revels.  But  granting  that  Clito  sincerely  thinks 
that  cruel  fate  and  not  her  choice  has  thrown  Helle  into  such  evil  com- 
pany, can  he  truly  believe  in  the  virtue  of  such  a  woman,  who,  when  she 
wins  the  true  love  of  an  honest  man,  still  hesitates  to  fly  from  such  a  life, 
and  grasp  the  helping  hand  that  is  held  out  to  her  ?  Such  willing 
blindness  may  be  true  to  life,  but  if  it  is  so,  it  is  a  lamentable 
sight,  one  that  one  would  rather  not  dwell  upon.  By  this 
time  Helle  is  tired  of  playing  a  part,  and  Xenocles,  who 
had  repeatedly  been  refused  admittance,  is  now  allowed  to  have  an  inter- 
view with  his  adopted  son.  Clito  learns  how  he  has  been  made  a  traitor 
to  his  countrymen,  but  refuses  to  believe  that  Helle  has  had  a  hand  in 
the  deception,  and  Xenocles  leaves  him  in  despair.  But  the  veil  soon 
falls  off  his  eyes.  Helle  herself  undeceives  him,  and  rails  at  him  with 
her  companions,  pouring  all  the  venom  of  her  despicable  nature  on  this 
man  she  so  hates.  At  this  juncture  Irene,  deceived  by  a  message  pur- 
porting that  she  has  been  sent  for  by  Clito,  arrives,  and  is  eagerly  greeted 
by  Glaucias.  Clito  interposes  furiously,  and  Helle,  pretending  to  pro- 
tect the  girl,  bids  a  slave  to  take  her  to  her  chamber  and  make  the  door 
fast;  but  while  Clito,  kneeling  at  her  feet,  exclaims,  "  For  this  one  mercy 
be  all  thy  sins  forgiven,"  she  hands  the  key  to  her  accomplice  in  devilry. 
But  Xenocles,  who  has  already  missed  his  daughter  and  roused  the 
citizens,  now  breaks  in  with  them  to  rescue  her,  to  find  only  her  dead 
body,  for  on  their  approach  Glaucias  has  stabbed  Irene,  to  silence  her 
cries  for  help.  Retribution  follows  at  once,  for  Clito  kills  Glaucias  with 
his  own  dagger.  We  might  have  been  spared  all  these  revolting  details 
which  close  the  act,  Helle's  fiendish  outburst  would  have  been  a  powerful 
climax,  less  painful  to  witness  than  the  ensuing  scene.  On  the  first  night, 
the  audience  at  this  point  were  wrought  to  such  a  pitch  of  excitement, 
that  they  very  evidently  looked  to  the  last  act  with  the  apprehension  that 
it  must  fall  flat  after  what  had  gone  before;  but  when  it  was  found  that  this- 
was  not  the  case,  this  had  much  to  do  with  the  enthusiastic  recall  of  the 
authors.  Clito  has  been  dragged  back  to  his  house  by  the  people, 
who  intend  to  call  him  to  account,  after  they  have  captured 
Helle ;  they  leave  him,  knowing  well  he  will  not  seek  to  escape. 
Nemesis  has  filled  his  cup  with  the  bitterest  retribution.  His  honour 
lost  by  his  own  folly,  his  idol  shattered,  degraded  in  his  own  estimation, 
sullied  in  his  love,  what  does  he  care  for  punishment  or  death  ?  But 
his  cup  of  sorrow  and  shame  is  not  yet  full ;  he  has  still  to  see  how 
abject  and  loathsome  a  thing  is  the  woman  who  has  brought  about  his 
downfall.  Helle,  abandoned  by  all  her  friends,  hounded  to  death  by  the 
mob,  comes  to  the  man  she  has  wronged,  and  asks  him  to  save  her.  She 
grovels  at  his  feet  in  abject  terror :  to  her,  shame  and  infamy  are  nothing  ; 


JUNE  i,  1886.]  OUR  PLAY-BOX. 


329 


but  life— life  at  any  price.  At  first  Clito  reviles  her ;  but  shows  her  a  way 
by  which  she  may  escape.  Too  late !  The  mob  returns,  and,  infur 
at  finding  them  together,  sets  upon  them  with  their  daggers.  On  seeing 
Helle  dead,  Clito,  who  has  received  his  death-blow,  utters  a  cry  of  pain 
— for  some  shadow  of  his  great  love  still  clings  to  his  poor,  torn  heart — 
and  he  dies,  forgiven  by  his  father.  And  thus  ends  this  daring  play, 
which  has  taken  the  public  by  storm.  As  a  first  attempt  at  blank  verst 
Sydney  Grundy  has  done  wonders  ;  not  that  he  shines  in  being  poetical, 
but  he  has  colour,  incisive  sarcasm,  and,  occasionally,  a  tinge  of  wit.  Vigour 
is  no  doubt  a  quality,  but  it  should  not  be  carried  to  the  length  of 
bluntness,  or  of  being  crudely  outspoken  ;  and  into  this  fault  Mr.  Grundy 
has  often  fallen  during  the  course  of  this  clever  play.  The  acting 
deserves  all  praise.  Mr.  Wilson  Barrett's  indomitable  energy  and  vigour 
of  style  are  the  very  requisites  of  the  impetuous  and  youthful  Clito.  Few 
actors  are  so  at  home  in  the  classic  garb  as  Mr.  Barrett,  and  his  declama- 
tory powers  in  a  part  which  contains  long  and  energetic  speeches  are  of 
the  greatest  service  to  the  play.  To  be  truthful,  Mr.  Barrett's  elocution 
on  the  first  night  was  not  quite  what  we  are  accustomed  to  expect  from 
him,  his  delivery  being,  at  times,  far  too  rapid  and  forced  ;  but  he  was 
evidently  labouring  under  strong  emotion  and  anxiety,  which  the  responsi- 
bility of  such  a  production  fully  warranted.  Such  failings,  incidental  to 
a  first  night,  are  inevitable  where  the  actor  is  author  and  manager  as 
well.  I  have  seldom  seen  Mr.  Barrett  so  moved.  But  he  feels  his  part, 
which,  I  am  confident,  will  prove  one  of  his  best,  showing  both  power 
and  pathos  ;  his  conception  is  good,  and  his  rendering  full  of  fire.  Mr. 
E.  S.  Willard  has  never  done  anything  better  than  Glaucias ;  he  has  but 
little  to  say,  but  every  sentence  tells,  and  the  impersonation  is  highly 
finished.  Mr.  J.  H.  Clynds  had  some  fine  speeches  to  deliver  as 
Xenocles,  and  infused  some  true  feeling  into  his  utterances ;  unfor- 
tunately, this  was  to  some  extent  marred  by  a  tendency  to  rant.  Mr. 
Charles  Hudson  and  Mr.  Austin  Melford  were  both  very  good.  Miss 
Carrie  Coote  makes  a  pretty  Irene,  but  is  quite  overweighted  by  the 
part ;  this  is  unfortunate,  for  this  sweet,  pure  girl  should  captivate  our 
interest.  The  success  of  Helle  should  not  be  mistaken.  It  was  not  the 
development  of  the  character,  in  all  its  subtlety  and  viciousness,  that  was 
followed  with  breathless  interest,  powerfully  as  it  is  delineated ;  it  was 
the  display  of  histrionic  power  shown  by  the  actress.  Miss  Eastlakc 
took  her  greatest  admirers  by  surprise  ;  she  rose  to  such  unexpected 
heights  that  the  attention  was  rivetted  by  the  great  art  of  her  impersona- 
tion. The  irritability,  ferocity,  and  depravity  of  the  woman  ;  the  softness, 
the  irresistible  charm,  the  fascinating  tenderness  she  can  assume  at  will  ; 
her  abject  terror  when  death  is  near ;  all  these  strong  contrasts  are 
depicted  with  an  artistic  skill  that  could  not  be  surpassed.  With  this 
new  character,  the  most  difficult  she  has  yet  attempted,  the  young  actress 
has  raised  herself,  at  one  bound,  to  the  very  first  rank  of  her  profession. 
But  one  shudders  to  think  that  such  women  as  Helle  exist.  "  Clito"  is 
eminently  a  two-part  play,  but  the  smallest  of  characters  are  in  good 
hands ;  indeed,  it  is  the  excellence  of  the  stagecraft  throughout  the  play 


330 


THE    THEATRE. 


[JUNE  i,  1886. 


that  will  continue  to  run  away  with  the  spectator's  judgment.  I  do  not 
mean  that  such  a  play  will  do  great  harm  to  those  who  see  it ;  for  the 
authors  have  shown  us  that  vice  in  the  lap  of  luxury,  and  surrounded  with 
all  the  good  things  of  this  world,  is  yet  so  repulsive  that  we  do  not  for  a 
moment  entertain  any  other  feeling  but  that  of  loathing.  But  is 
familiarity  with  such  things  productive  of  much  good  ?  Surely,  as  I 
said  before,  little  is  gained  by  such  an  admirable  display  of  art  when 
the  moral  to  be  gathered  from  it  is  that  we  live  in  a  bad  world,  where 
men  of  lofty  minds  and  noble  hearts  can  be  turned  away  from  the  right 
path  by  the  wiles  of  dangerous,  bad  women,  while  the  women  who  strive 
to  be  good,  pure,  and  high-minded  are  looked  upon  with  indifference 
or  scarcely  recognised  !  Some  there  are  who  may  fairly  maintain  that 
this  last  point  is  the  very  saddest,  and  most  to  be  regretted,  in  what  is 
suggested  by  this  realistic  play. 

MARIE  DE  MENSIAUX. 


"  THE  CENCI." 

A  Tragedy  in  Five  Acts,  by  PERCY  BYSSHE  SHELLEY. 

First  represented,  by  the  Shelley  Society,  at  the  Grand  Theatre,  Islington,   on  Friday,  afternoon, 

May  7,   1886. 


Beatrice  Cenci Miss  ALMA  MURRAY. 

Lucretia,  Countess  Cenci  Miss  MAUDE  BRENNAN. 

Count  Francesco   Cenci  Mr.  HERMANN  VEZIN. 

Orsino   Mr.  LEONARD  S.  OUTRAM. 

Cardinal  Camillo   Mr.  W.  FARREN,  jun. 

Giacomo  Cenci  Mr.  R.  DE  CORDOVA. 

Bernardo  Cenci Mr.  MARK  AMBIENT. 

Savella Mr.  PHILLIP  BEN  GREET. 

Marzio   Mr.  G.  R.  Foss. 

Olimpio Mr.  W.  R.  STAVELEY. 

Andrea...,  .  Mr.  CECIL  CROFTON. 


Orsino's  Servant Mr.  CECIL  RAMSEY. 

Prince  Colonna Mr.  J.  D.  BOUVERIE. 

First  Guest Mr.  FRED  WESTWOOD. 

Second  Guest Mr.  HARRY  GRATTON. 

Third  Guest Mr.  H.  LINTON. 

A  Guest    Mr.  E.  H.  PATERSON. 

.ludge    Mr.  F.  HOPE  MERISCORD. 

Second  Judge Mr.  A.  J..  MATTHEWS. 

Officer  Mr.  W.  T.  PERCIVAL. 

XT  1,1    T   A-  f  Mrs.  CoMFroN  READ. 

Noble  Ladies  j  Mig8  BYRONj  etc> 


This  was  the  first  and  probably  the  last  performance  of  the  most 
repulsive  play  that  has  been  produced  this  century.  For  even  if  the 
enthusiastic  members  of  the  Shelley  Society  purposed  again  acting 
"  The  Cenci,"  it  is  more  than  likely  that  a  repetition  of  the  tragedy 
in  anything  like  so  public  a  manner  as  that  accorded  to  it  at  Islington 
would  be  forbidden  by  the  licenser  of  plays,  inasmuch  as  the  payment 
of  a  guinea  to  the  Shelley  Society  constitutes  membership,  and,  con- 
sequently, the  privilege  of  witnessing  its  stage  representations.  The 
guinea  a  year  also  entitles  the  subscriber  to  bring  a  friend  to  each 
performance.  This  attempt  to  evade  the  law  is  somewhat  similar 
to  that  practised  in  the  old  days  of  unlicensed  theatres,  when  a 
charge  was  made  for  admission  to  a  concert,  the  theatrical  entertain- 
ment being  "  given  gratis  by  persons  for  their  diversion!"  Such  an 
excuse  would  avail  but  little  now,  and  the  Shelley  Society,  we  may 
rest  assured,  would  hardly  venture  upon  a  second  presentation  of  a 
tragedy  which  has  no  excuse  for  its  existence.  "  To  excite  pity  and 
terror  "  is  doubtless  a  laudable  ambition  on  the  part  of  a  poet,  but  it 
is  not  the  all  in  all  of  a  tragedy.  Tragedy  should  ennoble;  it 
should,  as  Messrs.  Alfred  and  Buxton  Forman  rightly  urge, 
purify  the  passions.  But  no  elevation  of  the  mind,  no  purifica- 
tion, can  arise  from  the  contemplation  of  that  which  is  mere 
horror  and  abomination,  unrelieved  by  sympathy.  It  is  diffi- 


JUNE  i,  1886.]  OUR  PLA  Y-BOX.  331 

cult  to  see  where  good  can  come  from  working  on  the  vile 
criminal  passion  of  a  man  who  is  little  short  of  a  monster — a  man  in 
outward  semblance  only — and  the  consequences  of  his  loathsome 
degradation.  There  would  have  been  some  slight  excuse  for  this  sad 
exhibition  had  Shelley's  play  contained  any  grand  language,  any 
lofty  thought,  or  any  special  theatrical  effectiveness.  But  in  none  of 
these  respects  is  it  noteworthy.  Its  "  word-painting  "  has  no  par- 
ticular excellence,  and,  regarded  as  a  stage  play,  it  is  positively 
ineffective.  The  construction  is  throughout  weak,  displaying  a  very 
inexperienced  hand  indeed ;  the  real  climax  to  the  piece,  the  death 
of  the  Count  Cenci,  strongly  reminds  one  of  the  murder  scene  in 
"  Macbeth  "  ;  but  even  after  this  imitation  of  Shakespeare  the  greater 
parts  of  two  acts  are  occupied  by  the  heroine,  whom  everyone  knows 
to  be  guilty  of  her  father's  murder,  proclaiming  her  innocence  of  it ; 
and  Beatrice  also  strongly  asserts  at  one  time  that  she  has  been  foully 
outraged,  while  on  another  occasion  she  declares  herself  to  be  spot- 
less as  the  driven  snow.  These  are  blemishes  that  ought  to  be 
patent  to  those  least  inexperienced  in  the  matter  of  plays ;  and 
yet  "  The  Cenci "  is  acted,  despite  the  repulsive  nature  of 
its  story,  its  weakness  of  language,  and  its  absolute  unfitness,  in 
other  respects,  for  representation  on  the  stage.  And  all  to  do 
honour  to  Shelley.  Honour,  forsooth !  The  only  result  of  this 
silly  experiment  of  the  Shelley  Society  has  been  to  bring  dishonour 
down  on  the  devoted  head  of  their  departed  hero,  whose  name  must 
henceforward  be  recorded  in  theatrical  annals  in  conjunction  with  the 
least  reputable  of  its  records.  To  those  who  respect  the  stage  and 
sympathise  with  its  more  laudable  efforts,  it  must  be  a  matter  of 
sincere  congratulation  that  this  injudicious  step  received  but  scant 
support  from  those  directly  connected  with  the  theatre. 

AUSTIN  BRERETON. 


"HELENA    IN    TROAS." 

By  Jokn  Todhunter.    Adapted  for  the  Stage  and  produced  by  E.  W.  Godwin, 

At  Hengler's  Circus,  arranged  as  a  Greek  Theatre, 

On  Monday  Afternoon,  May  17, 1886. 


Priam Mr.  HERMANN  VKZIN. 

Paris Mr.  H.  BRERBOHM  TRKB. 

Hecuba Miss  LUCY  ROCIIR. 

Helena  Miss  ALMA  MCRRAT. 

CEnone  ...  .  Mrs.  BKBRUOHM  TREE. 


Elder  of  Troy Mr.  Fwn>  Wnmrooo. 

Archer   Mr.  H.  PAOET. 

Tin-woman  to  IU-i-iilia  ...     Mrs.  LoctU  JorUXO. 


Handmaidens  to  Helena 


Miw  HARK  and  Mr*. 

OBCAR  WILDE. 


CHORUS. 

Leader— Miss  KINNAIRD. 

Miss  J.  CON-NELL,  Miss  C.  OONNELL,  Miss  CRANKORD,  Miss  A.  FRBRMAX,  Mi«w  GOOD*,  HIM  D.  OOODK.  MM 

CILCHRIST,  Miss  S.  LKB,  Miss  LKVESON,  Miss  Rr.BKRTs,  Miss  IDA  ROBRRTH,  Mm  ROBAX,  Mrt.  S«L§T  LCA*J>, 

Miss  B.  SKCDDBR,  Miss  JANKTTB  STEER. 

At  certain  fitful  periods  breezes  of  artistic  sentiment  sweep  over 
our  London  life.  We  have  had  a  craze  for  the  fashions  and  furniture 
of  the  late  Queen  Ann,  for  the  doings  and  thoughts  of  the  Renn.iis- 
ance,  for  the  "  Second  Empire,"  and  now  we  are  Greek — very  Greek. 
Sweet  modern  maidens  who  this  time  last  year  were  probably  playing 
lawn-tennis,  or  drifting  past  Cliveden  Woods,  have  suddenly 
changed  their  flannels  for  sweeping  draperies.  Well-modelled,  white 


332  THE  THEATRE.  []UNE  lf  l886. 

arms,  that  were  wont  to  wield  a  rein,  a  racquet,  or  sculls,  are  slowly 
uplifted  in  rhythmic  sway  as  the  solemn  chant  arises  from  the 
smoking  thymele.  Swift  feet  that  used  to  swing  to  the  pulsations  of 
the  last  new  valse  now  tread  in  sandelled  silence  over  mosaics  and 
marbles  ;  mirthful  eyes  are  filled  with  mournful  mystery,  and  clear 
young  voices  no  longer  laugh,  but  bewail  the  woes  of  Troy  in  most 
melancholy  music.  For  the  moment  the  triumph  of  the  Peplum 
over  the  Petticoat  is  absolute.  Who  hath  done  all  this  ?  That 
recognised  authority,  Mr.  E.  W.  Godwin.  He  said,  "  Let  there  be 
Greeks" — and  there  are  Greeks,  and  very  charming  Greeks  too.  I 
find  no  fault  with  him,  for,  of  all  the  floating  artistic  breezes,  this 
last,  that  seems  to  sweep  to  us  from  the  y£gean  Sea,  and  bring  with 
it  the  curl  of  the  ripples  that  murmur  to  the  sands  of  Salamis,  is 
possibly  the  best.  At  all  events,  it  shows  society  what  a  beautiful 
thing  Dignity  is.  It  is  a  solemn  protest  against  pertness,  and  in  the 
whirl  and  rush  we  are  grateful  for  the  restfulness  and  quick  and  severe 
earnestness  such  an  artistic  effort  brings  us. 

There  are  four  ideas  to  be  considered  concerning  this  production — 
the  drama,  the  designer,  the  actor,  and  the  music.  Mr.  Todhunter's 
play,  is  a  very  thoughtful  and  intellectual  poem,  containing  passages 
of  much  literary  beauty,  and  a  sympathetic  sense  of  that  sad  dread  of 
death,  and  the  terrible  vengeance  that  Love  brings  with  it  that  we  find  in 
all  Greek  plays.  For  all  that,  it  is  not  a  strong  acting  play,  and,  saving 
to  scholarly  souls  and  artistic  eyes,  is  somewhat  dreary.  The  absolute 
impossibility  of  hearing  a  single  word,  the  chorus  sang  was  against  its 
success  ;  but,  even  with  book  in  hand,  the  events  hardly  stirred  us. 
We  admired  the  poetry,  but  cared  little  for  the  play.  There  is  an 
obscurity  about  that  really  strong  moment  of  the  kiss  that  I  cannot 
penetrate.  Paris,  who  is  dying  of  his  wound,  sends  for  his  old  love, 
CEnone,  whose  magic  skill  alone  can  save  him.  Frankly  the  nymph 
tells  him  that  she  can  and  will  save  him  if  his  love  for  her  has  com 
back ;  the  prescription  can  only  heal  if  the  patient  is  true.  Thi 
passage  is  a  fine  example  of  the  author's  spirit,  and  I  quote  it : — 

PARIS.    Yet  heal  me,  CEnone  !     Give  me  back  my  life— 
Perchance  my  spring,  which  seems  to  breathe  from  thee, 
Which  seems  to  whisper  in  my  dying  ear 

Regrets,  desires  !       Quick,  quick,  put  forth  thy  power 

Before  it  be  too  late !     CEnone,  O  love  ! 

Put  forth  thy  power,  and  give  me  back  my  spring  ! 

CENONE.     O  false  Paris  !  false  love  !      Swear  thou  art  true, 
And  I'll  believe  it.     But  be  true  to  me  ! 
Withered  thy  spring,  I'll  pour  the  bliss  of  youth 
Through  all  thy  parchdd  veins.     But  swear  to  me, 
When  all  my  pride  is  melted  into  love, 
And  all  my  love  in  one  tumultuous  wave 
Of  healing  hath  uplifted  thee  from  death, 
The  Spartan  shall  not  have  thee — swear  to  me  ! 

PARIS.     Bind  me  not  with  vain  oaths  but  potent  love  ; 
And  if  thou  hast  the  love,  put  forth  the  power. 

CENONE.     The  power  lies  in  my  lips  ;  but  O,  beware 


1886.]  OUR  PLAY-BOX.  333 

If  thou  art  parleying  with  a  double  thought ; 
If  her  imperious  vision  comes  to  dash 
The  mystery  of  our  lips,  then  thou  art  lost. 

PARIS.     Quick,  let  me  make  the  ordeal  of  thy  lips  ! 
Sorceress !     I  am  twice  Death's  fool !    Come,  Helen,  come  ! 

CENONE.     False,  false,  utterly  false  !   utterly  lost ! 
Alas  !  poor  trickster  of  thyself,  I  have  given 
My  holiest  fountains  to  thy  scorching  thirst, 
Because  I  loved  as  never  woman  man  ; 
All,  knowing  thy  false  heart — in  vain  !   in  vain  ! 
Back  to  thy  Helen — let  her  save  thee  now  ! 

At  the  words  "  ordeal  of  thy  lips  "  they  kiss.  No  healing  is  the  result 
of  the  poor  (Enone's  pouring  forth  of  her  "  holiest  fountains,"  for 
Paris,  in  his  secret  heart,  loves  Helen.  Now,  he  must  have  known 
that  fact  and  the  conditions  of  the  magic  cure ;  yet  he  promptly 
"  rounds  on  "  the  hapless  CEnone  with  scorn  and  "  sorceress  !"  II- 
knew  in  his  weak  heart  he  could  not  pay  the  stipulated  fee — the  very 
essence  of  his  recovery — and  then  blames  the  physician.  I  never 
thought  much  of  Paris  as  I  met  him  in  the  "  Iliad,"  and  generally 
rejoiced  when  sturdier  and  braver  men  abused  him  roundly.  I  think 
even  less  of  the  effeminate  sensualist  now. 

The  designer's  work  is  altogether  excellent.  Mr.  Godwin  has  given 
beauty,  unity,  and  harmony  to  the  details  of  archaeology.  His  theatre 
was  strictly  accurate,  his  classical  lore  severe  ;  yet  his  treatment  was 
poetical,  and  not  pedantic.  The  critics  have  given  many  lovely  and 
enthusiastic  descriptions  of  the  beautiful  scene,  and  I  would  only 
add  one  point.  The  final  exit  of  the  chorus,  as  they  slowly  mount  the 
double  steps  leading  to  the  stage,  was  more  than  beautiful,  more  than 
"  Alma-Tadamesque.'*  With  such  extraordinary  skill  of  stage 
management  and  delicate  feeling  was  the  movement  managed  that  it 
was  wondrously  pathetic.  There  was  a  strange  sense  of  sorrow  in  the 
"  Dead  March  "  of  these  broken-hearted  girls  as  they  slowly  moved 
from  our  sight  and  faded  away  like  the  phantoms  of  some  sad  dream, 
from  which  we  wake  in  tears. 

Thirdly,  as  to  the  acting.  It  was  very  earnest  and  well-intentioned 
but  of  fire  and  passion  there  was  none.  With  the  exception  of  Mr. 
Vezin's  powerful  notion  of  King  Priam  (in  his  hands  all  such  strange 
parts  are  necessarily  "  safe "),  there  was  no  relief,  no  colour,  no 
humanity.  The  delivery  was  slow,  monotonous,  and  dull ;  the  voices 
were  the  voices  of  many  curates  whining  out  many  "  second  lessons." 
Stilted  pauses — useless,  meaningless  pauses — weighted  the  poetry. 
As  in  the  recent  production  of  "  The  Cenci,"  there  seemed  to  have 
gone  forth  an  edict  that  there  must  be  a  sort  of  "  interval  for  refresh- 
ment "  between  every  word  in  a  sentence,  and  a  full  entr'acte  between 
the  sentences  themselves.  Very  frequently  this  pause  took  place  at 
the  end  of  a  line,  when  the  sense  would  urge  the  voice  to  go  on  and 
complete  the  idea.  The  irritating  sense  of  "  drag  "  this  method  pro- 
duced cannot  be  explained  away  by  any  talk  concerning  majesty,  and 
dignity,  and  repose.  The  people  in  the  play  are  human  people,  and 


334  THE  THE  A  TRE.  [JuNE  X|  x886. 

should  have  varying  methods  for  various  emotions  ;  but  they  all  took 
their  speeches  in  the  same  monotonous  andante.  A  skilled  and  grace- 
ful writer  in  a  contemporary  of  May  22nd  justly  tells  us  that 
41  the  two  things  the  Greeks  valued  most  in  actors  were  grace  of 
gesture  and  music  of  voice"  (so  do  we  of  this  day,  I  take  leave  to 
say,  and,  what  is  more,  we  do  not  shout  through  masks)  ;  but,  while 
I  admit  the  grace  of  gesture,  I  deny 'that  monotony  is  "music." 
Inflection,  spirit,  play  of  feeling,  requires  contrast  of  what  music- 
makers  call  tempi.  There  is  no  evidence  |to  be  procured  about  the 
matter  ;  but  I,  for  one,  stoutly  refuse  to  believe  that  the  stars  of  the 
Sophoclean  (I  mean  Sophoklean)  or  Euripidean  companies  intoned 
their  speeches  like  Gregorian  chants.  If  this  is  indeed  the  "  grand 
style,"  that  requires  applause  to  be  hushed  by  an  irritated  Professor 
for  fear  of  "  marring  by  any  moderation  of  expression  the  calm 
majesty  of  Melpomene,"  then  my  passionate  faith  in  the  life  and  art- 
loving,  joyous  Athenians  is  sorely  shaken,  and  I  see  how  clearly, 
how  wise  it  was  of  the  W.  S.  Gilbert- Aristophanes  spirit  of  the  day  to 
.shake  them  up  and  burlesque  them  in  baskets.  The  beautiful  hand- 
maidens and  tire-women  and  the  resting  chorus,  who  had  nothing  to 
say,  but  only  to  exist  and  be  beautiful,  were  often  more  pleasing  than 
the  preaching  Protagonists.  However,  for  sound  and  earnest  effort  to 
produce  this,  to  my  thinking,  most  deplorable  "  grand  style,"  praise  is  due 
to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Beerbohm-Tree  and  Miss  Alma  Murray,  who  shows 
fine  intellectuality  in  all  she  does. 

Of  the  music,  the  least  said  the  better.  If  the  "invention  of  the 
diatonic  scale  "  produced  such  gruesome  growls  as  this,  better  by  far 
that  the  human  ear  and  mind  had  never  learnt  to  sympathise  with  semi- 
tones. Wagnerian  "  motives  "  would  have  been  intelligible  and  wise; 
.and  this  type  of  treatment — this  method  of  providing  Greek  music,  of 
which  we  really  know  very  little — has  been  recently  offered  to 
us  with  success  by  Dr.  C.  V.  Stanford  in  his  music  to  "  The 
Eumenides"  oLEschylus  at  Cambridge,  reproduced  at  the  last  Richter 
Concert. 

Greek  art  in  the  sense  of  beauty  of  form,  movement,  dress,  and 
calm  dignity  we  must  reverently  admire  to  the  end  of  time  ;  but  the 
human  ear  has  developed  in  sensitiveness  more  than  the  human  eye. 
It  will  probably  still  further  develope,  and  no  mistaken  sense  of 
enthusiasm  can  make  us  of  this  century  violate  our  inherited  musical 
culture  by  pretending  to  admire  pretentious  discordancy. 

External  objects — the  external  beauties  of  form  and  colour — have 
been  before  the  eyes  of  all  nations  and  all  times.  The  stars 
glitter  to  us  as  they  did  to  the  Greeks ;  they  saw  the  colours  and 
shapes  of  things  as  we  do ;  but  there  is  no  such  thing  as  music  in  nature — 
the]sweetest  song  bird  sings  unscientifically.  Music — traditionally  the 
only  art  the  angels  practice  in  heaven — is  evolved  from  the  innermost 
mysteries  of  man's  own  nature.  It  has  no  counterpart  outside  his 
own  mind  ;  and  seeming  that  the  High  Priests  and  Stewards  of  this 


JUNE  i,  1886.]  OUR  PLA  Y-BOX.  335 

mystery,  have  brought  it  to  its  present  power  and  magnificence,  it 
is  false  art  to  seek  for  its  earliest  and  ugliest  form. 

It  is  right  to  indicate  these  things,  and  it  only  remains  to  congra- 
tulate the  Neo-Hellenists  on  their  sincerity.  The  beautiful  movement 
will  go  on,  and  as  its  severity  diminishes  and  our  tastes  grow  attuned 
to  it,  we  shall  find  ourselves  insensibly  assisting  in  a  Nineteenth 
Century  Rennaisance,  wherein  even  critics  may  grow  gentle. 

W.  C.  K.  WILDE. 


To  understand  the  design  of  a  Greek  theatre  as  imitated  for  the  pro- 
duction of  Mr.  Todhuntei's  play,  a  brief  glance  at  the  historical  develop- 
ment of  the  Greek  drama  is  very  helpful.  This  once  understood,  the 
relations  between  the  narrow  upper  stage,  or  proscenium,  and  the  broad, 
almost  circular,  lower  stage,  or  orchestra,  become  clear.  Just  as  the 
Elizabethan  drama  was  evolved  from  the  rude  mysteries  of  the  middle 
ages,  the  Greek  drama  was  evolved  from  the  still  ruder  ceremonies  of  the 
early  worship  of  Bacchus  Both  had  a  religious  origin  ;  but  while  the 
English  drama  becomes  completely  secularised,  the  Greek  to  the  last 
retained  much  of  its  sacred  character,  typified  by  the  altar,  or  thymcle,  in 
the  centre  of  the  lower  stage. 

We  must  look  for  the  crude  origins  of  the  Greek  drama  in  the  merry- 
makings at  festivals,  in  spring  time,  and  at  grape  harvest  and  vintage 
festivals  in  honour  of  the  lusty  god  Bacchus,  god  of  mounting  sap  and 
foaming  wine,  god  of  that  rejoicing  life  in  all  things  so  keenly  felt  by  the 
Greek  spirit.  Out  of  these  merry-makings  arose  the  rude  games  in  which 
young  men  would  contend  for  the  prize  of  a  goat  (the  victim  sacrificed  to 
Bacchus)  with  songs  extemporised  in  honour  of  the  god,  and  dances 
around  his  altar.  The  very  word  tragedy  keeps  in  its  etymology  ( rpayoc, 
a  goat,  <5Se,  a  song)  the  memory  of  their  old  goat-songs.  Then  come 
contentions  of  rival  poets,  and  the  gradual  evolution  of  the  choral  ode, 
so  mighty  an  instrument  in  the  hands  of  ^Eschylus  and  his  successors. 
Arion,  of  Corinth,  is  said  to  have  invented  the  dithyrambic  dance  and 
song.  Then  dialogues  were  introduced  in  the  pauses  of  the  choric  song 
and  out  of  these  dialogues  the  drama  was  developed.  The  chorus  of 
Thespis  performed  a  solemn  dance  upon  a  raised  platform  with  an  altar 
in  the  centre.  Then  a  small,  higher  stage  was  introduced,  first  for  a 
single  performer,  who  held  dialogues  with  the  leader  of  the  chorus,'and 
by  degrees  this  small  stage  increased  in  dimensions  until  it  ran  right  across 
the  stage  for  the  chorus,  from  which  it  cut  off  a  segment,  thus  forming  a 
double  stage  of  somewhat  horse  shoe  form.  Upon  the  upper  stage  the 
business  of  the  drama  was  transacted,  while  the  chorus,  which  represented 
the  sacred  and  moral  element,  remained  below,  ideal  spectators  of  the 
tragic  action,  and  mediators  between  the  heroic  personages  contending 
against  fate  and  the  gods,  angry  or  favourable.  Hence,  the  importance 
of  the  chorus,  which  never  sank  to  the  level  of  a  band  of  supernumeraries, 
but  took  an  imposing  part  in  the  unfolding  of  the  drama,  which  was 
divided  by  the  choral  odes  into  sections  somewhat  corresponding  to  the 


336  THE    THEATRE.  [JUNE  i,  1 886. 

acts  of  a  modern  play.  The  number  of  the  chorus  seems  to  have  varied  at 
different  times,  and  with  different  poets  ;  fifteen,  not  including  the  leader, 
is  that  adopted  in  the  production  of  Mr.  Todhunter's  play. 

In  the  performances  of  Greek  plays  at  the  Universities  the  conditions 
have  been  so  unfavourable  for  anything  like  an  exact  reproduction  of  the 
structural  characters  of  the  ancient  Greek  theatre  that  possibly  many 
persons  of  considerable  classical  culture  may  have  come  away  with  an 
erroneous  impression  as  to  the  actual  form  of  such  a  theatre,  and  the 
relative  proportions  of  the  upper  stage  to  the  lower.  In  the  late  per- 
formance of  the  "Eumenides "  at  Cambridge,  for  instance,  interesting 
and  impressive  as  it  undoubtedly  was,  one  could  not  help  feeling  that  the 
chorus  was  miserably  cramped  upon  a  stage  actually  smaller  than  that 
on  which  the  protagonists  moved.  It  was  at  once  too  prominent  and  too 
unimportant — too  prominent  in  being  thrust  up  so  as  almost  to  conceal 
the  upper  stage,  as  it  passed  to  and  fro  in  its  choric  movements,  too  un- 
important when,  in  the  intervals  between  the  choral  odes,  it  was  thrust 
against  the  side-walls,  like  a  regiment  of  operatic  supernumeraries. 

It  was  a  happy  thought  to  produce  an  original  play  in  Greek  form  for 
the  benefit  of  our  National  School  of  Archaeology  at  Athens,  and  a  still 
happier  one  to  produce  it  in  a  building  like  Hengler's  Circus,  which  lends 
itself  in  the  most  obvious  way,  now  that  he  has  discovered  it,  to  the 
transformation  which  Mr.  E.  W.  Godwin  has  made  so  commendably. 
Here  we  have  no  confusion  between  the  denizens  of  the  upper  and  lower 
stages,  no  partial  occultations  of  protagonists  by  chorus.  The  chorus 
moved,  at  a  level  some  four  feet  below  that  of  the  proscenium,  over  an 
orchestra  of  dimensions  almost  exactly  equal  to  those  of  the  model  theatre 
of  ancient  Greece,  whose  ruins  still  scar  the  slopes  of  the  Acropolis. 
When  not  singing,  its  members  were  disposed  in  graceful  groups  around 
the  thymele,  or  on  the  steps  leading  to  the  upper  stage. 


It  has  been  suggested,  and  in  some  quarters  insisted  on,  that  "  Clito 
is  merely  a  new  version  of  "  Les  Filles  de  Marbre,"  of  Theodore  Barriere 
and  Lambert  Thiboust,  known  better  in  England  as  "  The  Marble  Heart." 
This  conclusion  has  been  arrived  at  probably  from  two  reasons.  The 
first  act  of  "Les  Filles  de  Marbre"  is  a  Greek  scene.  The  hero  is 
Phidias  the  sculptor,  the  heroine  is  the  famous  Aspasia.  The  first  act  or 
prologue  is  a  foreshadowing  of  the  tale  subsequently  told,  how  a  modern 
Parisian  sculptor  is  demoralised  and  befooled  by  a  notorious  French 
courtesan,  called  Marco.  The  plays  of  "  Clito  "  and  "  The  Marble  Heart" 
do  resemble  one  another  in  this  one  particular,  that  a  man  of  energy  and 
talent,  an  artist  by  profession,  with  a  quick  brain  and  high  intelligence, 
is  dragged  into  the  mire  and  gutter  by  an  abandoned  wretch,  who  has  lost 
all  sense  of  decency,  and  every  trace  of  the  purity  of  womanhood  that 


JUNE  i,  1886.]  OUR   OMNIBUS-BOX.  337 

once'was  her  inheritance.  Helle  and  Marco  are  both  shameless  and 
heartless;  but  of  the  two,  I  prefer  Marco,  as  I  infinitely  prefer  the 
dramatic  ideaof  "The  Marble  Heart"  to  that  contained  in  "Clito,"  not- 
withstanding all  its  cleverness  and  bold  language,  its  literary  power  and 
wonderful  adornment. 


In  "  The  Marble  Heart "  the  young  sculptor,  Raphael,  leaves  his  aged 
mother,  and  the  girl,  Marie,  to  whom  he  is  betrothed,  at  the  bidding  of 
the  notorious  Marco,  who  is  a  public  character  in  Paris.  She  fools  him 
to  the  top  of  his  bent,  and  then  flngs  him  off  for  some  richer  and  less 
scrupulous  sensualist.  Raphael,  like  Clito,  hesitates,  moralises,  and 
endeavours  to  tear  the  demon  arms  from  his  neck,  to  wipe  away  her  hot 
and  repulsive  embraces,  but,  unlike  Clito,  he  succeeds  in  conquering  his 
weakness.  Unlike  Clito,  with  a  strong  effort  he  tears  himself  away  from 
the  Circoean  orgies  at  which  he  has  assisted,  and  returns  home  to  the  girl 
whose  heart  he  has  broken,  to  the  mother  whose  old  eyes  he  has  filled 
with  bitter  tears.  There  is  a  moral  in  "  The  Marble  Heart"  We  do  not 
wade  knee-deep  through  a  stream  of  horrors  only  to  meet  ghastly  death  in 
its  most  repulsive  form.  The  art  of  the  dramatist  softens  and  chastens 
the  subject  exactly  at  the  right  moment.  The  audience  is  moved  to  pity, 
not  excited  to  shuddering.  Raphael,  who  has  come  home  repentant,  but 
in  broken  health,  does  not  die  slobbering  over  the  cruel  creature  who  has 
reduced  him  from  a  man  to  a  beast;  he  does  not  crawl  in  his  death  agony 
to  clasp  the  accursed  hand  of  a  woman  who  never  shows  for  him  one 
moment  of  love,  or  offers  him  one  cry  of  pity ;  but  he  dies  a  broken-down 
prodigal,  acknowledging  his  error,  claiming  pardon,  humble  and  repentant 
in  the  presence  of  the  mother  who  adores  him,  and  the  girl  who  in  spite 
of  his  folly,  has  been  faithful  to  him  to  the  end. 

The  last  scene  of  "The  Marble  Heart"  in  the  original  is  infinitely 
touching.  Raphael  dies  whilst  his  old  mother  is  sleeping,  comforted  by 
the  faithful  Marie.  His  death-song  is  an  old  melody  that  Marie  loved  : 

Le  Ciel  est  tout  plein  d'esperance, 
La  terre  est  pleine  de  chansons. 

How  different  from  the  old  dissolute  days  when  the  sculptor  Raphael 
had  listened  in  admiration  to  the  song  of  Marco  as  she  jingled  her  purse 
and  rattled  the  gold,  swearing  that  money  was  better  than  song  of  nightin- 
gale, or  murmur  of  brook,  better  than  any  romantic  Romeo  or  sentimen- 
talist in  the  world. 

Marco  qu'aimes  tu  done  ? 

Ni  la  chante  de  la  fauvette  ? 

Ni  le  murmure  de  1'eau  ? 

Ni  le  chante  de  1'alouette  ? 

Ni  la  voix  de  Rom«k>. 

[The  money  chinks]. 

Non  !  voila  ce  qu'aime  Marco. 

This  song,  this  song  of  excitement  and  devilry,  was  once  the  rage  of  all 
Paris.  It  was  sung  in  every  night-house  and  casino.  Many  a  Marco 
murmured  it  as  she  wheedled  the  Napoleons  out  of  the  pocket  of  some 


338  THE    THEATRE.  [jUNE  X|  l886 

tipsy  lover.  It  was  all  so  true.  But  it  was  not  the  song  that  the  French 
dramatist  dinned  into  the  ears  of  his  hero  when  he  died,  it  was  not  the 
song  with  which  he  tortured  and  distressed  his  audience  as  they  left  the 
theatre.  This  would  have  been  realism.  But  he  had  a  higher  art.  "  The 
earth  is  full  of  song,  but  heaven  is  full  of  hope."  This  was  the  melody 
that  soothed  the  sculptor  Raphael  in  his  death-sleep.  It  is  vanity  and 
vexation  down  here  below ;  it  is  peace  and  rest  above.  That  was  the 
artistic  idea  of  the  author  of  "  The  Marble  Heart,"  and  I  contend  it 
brings  with  it  a  better  lesson,  and  a  more  elevating  moral,  a  lesson  more 
full  of  hope  and  loveliness  than  that  of  a  murdered  man  dragging  himself 
along  the  stage  to  kiss  the  hands  of  a  polluted  demon,  who  had  no  instant 
of  remorse  for  what  she  had  done,  no  hope  of  heaven,  no  desire  to  do- 
aught  else  but  revel  in  corruption. 

The  end  of  "  The  Marble  Heart"  is  mere  prettiness,  but  in  that  pretti- 
ness  there  is  a  touch  of  drama.  It  is  sentiment  as  opposed  to  the 
grossness  of  realism.  Scarcely  has  Raphael,  the  consumptive  sculptor, 
breathed  his  last,  his  mother  asleep,  and  the  faithful  Marie  on  her  knees 
before  him,  when  suddenly,  in  the  awful  silence,  a  knock  is  heard  at 
the  door,  and  Desgenais,  the  best  friend  of  the  dead  man,  opens  it. 
A  servant  appears.  Here  is  the  dialogue  : — 

SERVANT.  Is  M.  Raphael  Didier  at  home  ? 

DESGENAIS  (hiding  the  dead  body  of  his  friend).   What  do  you  want  with  him  ? 

SERVANT.    Madame  is  here. 

DESGENAIS  (sternly).   Let  her  come  in. 

MARCO  enters. 
DESGENAIS.   Marco!   you  asked  for  Raphael.      (Uncovering  dead  body.)      Here 

he  is! 

MARCO  (with  a  cry  of  agony).    Raphael ! 
DESGENAIS  (whispering  to  MARCO).   Take  care,  Madame  ! 

You  will  wake  his  mother ! 

(The  curtain  falls. ) 

Is  not  this  picture  of  the  abandoned  woman  gazing  on  the  ruin  she 
has  caused  infinitely  more  pathetic  than  the  scene  of  a  pile  of  mangled 
corpses  with  no  sense  of  hope,  no  sigh  for  heaven  ?  It  is  surely  better 
art  to  send  Raphael  to  his  death  softened  and  repentant,  to  wring  one 
cry  of  love  and  pity  from  the  cold  and  calculating  Marco,  than  to  send 
both  Helle  and  Clito  to  eternity,  the  one  cursing  her  fate  on  earth,  the 
other  using  his  last  breath  to  slobber  kisses  on  the  accursed  hand  that 
murdered  him,  for,  in  reality,  Helle  is  Clito's  murderess. 


But  then  they  tell  me  Clito  is  so  human.  It  may  be  very  terrible,  but 
so  many  men  do  exactly  as  Clito  did.  No  doubt.  But  all  that  is  most 
human  in  nature  is  not,  on  that  account,  admissible  in  art.  Women 
bite  the  noses  off  the  faces  of  those  who  arouse  their  jealousy ;  men 
knock  the  eyes  out  of  their  wives  and  mistresses ;  monsters  exist  in  every 
grade  of  society.  But  art  is  not  for  the  resurrection  of  monsters  ;  it  was 
invented  to  exorcise  them.  Zola  tells  us  that  Nana  rejected  the  lucrative 
offers  of  Parisian  bankers,  and  preferred  the  society  of  a  low,  drunken 
actor,  who  blacked  her  eyes  during  the  night,  and  swore  at  her  because 


JUNE  i,  1886.]  OUR  OMNIBUS-BOX.  33g 

there  were  crumbs  in  the  bed.  All  this  may  be  very  true,  but  it  is  none 
the  less  hideous  and  revolting.  Human  nature  is  bad  and  brutal  enough 
outside  the  walls  of  a  theatre,  without  dishing  it  up  on  the  stage  for  our 
•edification.  I  want  to  believe  that  men  and  women  arc  in  reality  better 
than  they  appear  to  be,  and  not  more  monstrous.  I  want  the  stage  to 
teach  each  successive  audience  to  be  purified  by  hope  and  by  the  con- 
templation of  lovely  natures,  not  sickened  and  saddened  by  opening 
cesspools  under  their  noses.  I  will  give  an  illustration.  The  other 
day  an  enterprising  tradesman  at  the  Albert  Palace  wanted  to  tempt 
me  to  buy  a  shilling  microscope.  He  put  into  it  an  infinitesimal 
speck  of  the  dust  of  old  cheese,  a  tiny  drop  of  sour  paste,  a 
minute  particle  of  water,  and  showed  me  animals  more  hideous 
than  bugs  or  fleas,  wriggling,  crawling,  abominable  animalculae,  worms 
and  maggots  all  squabbling  over  one  another  for  dear  life.  Why  on 
•earth  should  I  expend  a  shilling  on  this  ghastly  "  memento  mori  "  ? 
Why  should  I  carry  about  a  microscope  full  of  worms  and  maggots, 
because  they  are  in  the  water  we  drink,  in  the  air  we  breathe  ?  They 
will  come  soon  enough  !  Or  why  should  I  go  to  the  theatre  in  order  to 
be  further  convinced  of  the  bitter  truth  that  some  men  are  fools  and 
some  women  are  monsters,  when  I  know  it  full  well  by  fatal  experience  ? 
No ;  the  highest  art  is  that  capable  of  idealising,  not  of  realising.  If  I 
want  a  picture  of  revolting  depravity,  I  can  get  it  photographed  from  real 
life,  and  stuck  up  as  a  "  memento  mori."  But  the  poet  and  the  artist  can 
alone  take  me  to  better,  purer,  and  nobler  worlds  than  this.  They  teach 
us  hope,  not  despair  ! 


"  The  Cenci  "  experiment  has  turned  out  as  ever}'  expert  knew  it  would. 
It  did  not  require  an  elaborate  performance  of  Shelley's  tragedy  in  public 
and  an  immense  amount  of  study  to  ascertain  the  obvious  fact  that  "  The 
Cenci"  in  its  original  form  is  a  cumbersome  and  unactable  play.     Had  the 
Shelley  Society  needed  any  advice  on  the  matter  they  could  have  got  it 
in  two  minutes  from  either  Mr.  Hermann  Vezin  or  Miss  Alma  Murray, 
who  did  yeomen's  service  to  the  Shelley  worshippers.     If  the  play  was 
ever  to  be  performed  the  dialogue  should  have  been  carefully  weeded, 
and  the  play  judiciously  cut  for  performance.     There  is  a  vast  difference 
between  what  Colley  Gibber  and  David  Garrick  did  for  Shakespeare,  and 
that  what  Mr.  Henry  Irving  is  accustomed  to  do.     To  have  altered  one 
line  or  sentence  of  Shelley  would  have  been  intolerable,  to  have  changed 
one  sentence  or  added  one  word  would  have  been  an  unpardonable  offence ; 
but  there  is  a  wide  margin  between  that  and  cutting  the  tragedy,  or 
judiciously  re-arranging  it  for  public  performance.     It  does  not  follow 
that  because  Shelley  was  a  great  poet  he  was  on  that  account  an  experi- 
enced stage  manager.     The  greatest  dramatic  poets  are  those  who  know 
the  least  of  the  stage.     Browning's  "Blot  on  the  Scutcheon"  ran  for  three 
nights  under  Macready's  management.     What  would  be  the  fate  of  the 
best  of  Tennyson's  and  Swinburne's  tragedies  if  they  were  placed  on  the 
stage  as  they  were  written  ?  They  would  have  failed  as  certainly  as  "  The 
Cenci "  unmistakably  failed — a  failure  that  might  have  been  anticipated 
NEW  SERIES. — VOL.  VII.  A  A 


340  THE    THEATRE.  [JUNE  i,  1 886. 

by  the  exercise  of  a  few  grains  of  that  invaluable  article  "  common  sense." 
Up  to  a  certain  point  the  play  of  "The  Cenci "  is  a  fairly  good  acting 
play  if  the  poetry  were  pruned  to  suit  the  exigencies  of  the  theatre. 
Where  it  wants  cutting  is  after  the  death  of  Count  Cenci.  The  trial 
scene,  where  Beatrice  perjures  herself  to  save  her  life,  might  well  be 
omitted,  allowing  the  lovely  last  act  to  follow  close  upon  the  death  of 
the  Count.  Notwithstanding  the  violent  language  of  certain  enthusiastic 
members  of  the  Shelley  Society  when  anyone  dares  to  differ  with  them, 
it  is  at  least  open  to  question  whether  invitations  should  be  indis- 
criminately offered  to  young  girls  and  innocent  women  who  may  have 
read  Shelley,  but  are  not  necessarily  familiar  with  the  plot  of 
"The  Cenci."  A  man  is  not  necessarily  "a  cad"  because  he 
considers  that  the  plot  of  "  The  Cenci  "  were  far  better  left 
undiscussed  in  general  society.  Be  that  as  it  may,  there  can  be  no 
possible  excuse  for  reprinting  in  a  book  widely  circulated  in  a  theatre  a 
loathsome  appendix  merely  because  it  had  previously  found  its  way  into 
one  of  the  editions  of  the  poet's  works.  To  put  such  a  pamphlet  into  the 
hands  of  women  is  to  incur  a  very  grave  and  serious  responsibility.  To 
say  that  women  in  the  theatre  did  not  read  it  is  simply  untrue.  The 
green  pamphlets  were  circulated  indiscriminately,  and  there  was  no 
attempt  made  to  keep  them  out  of  women's  hands.  To  play  "  The 
Cenci "  was  one  thing  ;  to  describe  with  revolting  detail  unmentionable 
crimes  was  quite  another.  But  from  the  performance  one  good  thing- 
resulted.  Mr.  Hermann  Vezin  and  Miss  Alma  Murray  acted  as  they 
have  never  acted  before.  The  curse  of  the  Count  is  a  thing  to  be 
remembered,  and  so  is  the  agonised  despair  of  Beatrice.  Both  artists 
have  considerably  increased  their  reputation  by  this  really  remarkable 
work,  and  I  am  glad  to  know  that  the  Shelley  Society  intends  to  offer 
them  both  a  pretty  present,  in  recognition  of  their  fine  acting  at  the 
Grand  Theatre,  Islington. 


"  An  Actor's  Holiday  "  will  be  the  title  of  an  article  in  the  summer 
number  of  "  The  Art  Journal,"  by  Joseph  Hatton,  whose  "  Clubland'' 
and  "  Faust"  papers  in  that  well-known  periodical  have  increased  its 
popularity  both  in  England  and  America.  The  actor  whose  holiday 
Mr.  Hatton  will  describe  is  Mr.  Henry  Irving ;  the  scenes  of  his 
travels  is  in  Belgium  and  Holland  ;  and  the  time,  on  the  eve  of  the 
the  first  American  tour.  The  article  will  be  more  or  less  biographical, 
and  it  will  give  the  reader  some  interesting  notes  about  "  Faust,' 
concerning  the  production  of  which  Mr.  Irving  was  busy,  with  many 
thoughts  and  fancies,  one  quiet  day  at  Bruges,  three  years  ago.  Mr. 
Hatton's  love  of  the  stage  ensures  us  a  sympathetic  and  interesting 
sketch,  I  notice,  by  the  way,  that  the  heroine  of  his  new  novel,  now 
running  in  "  Cassell's  Saturday  Journal,"  is  an  actress  who  (and  this 
is  a  novelty  in  fiction)  is  not  "  the  rage  of  the  town." 


VXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXVXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXVVXXXXXXX: 


How  can  I  thank  you?" 


HUMAN  NATURE. 


FROM   A  PHOTOGRAPH    SPECIALLY  TAKEN  FOR   "THE  THEATRE1'   BY  BARRAUD,   263,    OXFORD 

STREET,   Vf. 


JUNE  i,  1886.]  OUR  OMNIBUS-BOX.  34I 

Miss  Helen  Forsyth,  whose  pretty  photograph  as  Molly  Seagrira 
in  "  Sophia"  appears  in   this  number  of  THE  THEATRE,  has  before 
now  been  praised   for  her  pleasant  and  promising  acting.     We  first 
heard  of  this  young  actress  so  recently  as  1883,  when  she  made 
in  "  My  Awful  Dad,"  a  success  which  was  followed  up,  at  the  St.- 
and  Opera  Comique  theatres,  as  Violet  Melrose  in  "Our  Boys,"  K 
"The  Guv'nor,"  and  Ophelia  in  "  The  Excursion  Train."     In  the  pro- 
duction of  "  Dark  Days,"  at  the  Haymarket  last  year,  she  played  Ethel 
with  success,  and  in  the  recent  performance,  at  the  same  house,  of 
"  A  Woman  of  the  World  "  she  acted  the  juvenile  heroine  with  much 
grace,  refinement,  arid  intelligence.     Her  acting  as  Molly  Seagrim 
in    Mr.    Buchanan's  adaptation  of   "  Tom  Jones  "  shows  her  to  be 
possessed  of  a  very  clever  idea  of  character. 

It  is  seldom  that  we  are  able  to  chronicle  so  brilliantly  successful  a 
career,  for  so  young  a  man,  as  that  of  Mr.  Augustus  Harris,  the 
popular  lessee  and  manager  of  Drury  Lane,  whose  photograph  also 
appears  in  this  number.  Mr.  Harris  was  born  in  Pans,  in  the  Rue 
Taitbout,  in  a  house  now  pulled  down,  on  March  18,  1852,  so  that  he 
is  only  just  thirty-four  years  of  age.  His  father,  who  was  for  over 
thirty  years  at  Covent  Garden,  held  the  important  post  of  regisseur- 
general  at  the  Italian  opera  at  Paris,  and  was  therefore  in  a  position 
to  give  his  son  a  good  start  in  life,  had  he  cared  for  a  stage  career. 
But  the  stage-fever  had  not  yet  come  upon  the  subject  of  this  sketch, 
who  was  sent  to  a  ''finishing"  college  in  England,  where  he  was  in- 
structed over  again  in  all  that  he  had  learnt  abroad,  and  where  he 
acted  as  an  amateur.  He  went  into  the  city,  to  the  house  of  Emile 
Erlanger  and  Co.,  where  his  knowledge  of  French  and  of  German—- 
the latter  acquired  during  a  year's  residence  in  Hanover — made  him 
valuable  as  their  foreign  correspondent.  On  his  father's  death,  he 
entered  the  dramatic  profession,  in  consequence  of  the  advice  given 
him  by  the  late  John  Ryder,  who,  being  in  Paris  in  1873,  was  con- 
sulted by  Mr.  Augustus  Harris.  He  recommended  his  young  friend 
to  study  the  first  act  of  "  Hamlet,"  and  to  recite  it  to  him. 
No  sooner  said  than  done.  The  first  act  of  the  tragedy 
was  committed  to  memory,  and-,  in  a  dimly-lighted  cellar 
in  Paris,  the  future  manager  of  Drury  Lane  recited  the 
Shakespearean  lines  to  John  Ryder.  "  Go  back  to  London,"  was  the 
advice  tendered  by  the  veteran  actor;  and  to  London  Mr.  Harris 
returned,  resolved  to  win  his  way^on  the  stage.  He  made  his  first 
appearance  at  the  Theatre  Royal,  Manchester,  in  September,  1873, 
playing  Malcolm  in  a  revival  of  "  Macbeth."  Thence  he  went  to  the 
Amphitheatre,  now  the  Court,  Liverpool,  acting  juveniles  and  light 
comedy  in  support  of  Mr.  Barry  Sullivan.  From  that  time  his  rise  in 
his  adopted  calling  was  comparatively  rapid.  From  acting  Henry 
Greenlanes  in  "  Pink  Dominoes,"  at  the  Criterion  in  1877,  he  became, 
in  1879,  lessee  and  manager  of  Drury  Lane,  reviving  there,  on 
November  i  of  that  year,  Shakespeare's  "  Henry  V."  The  enormous 

A  A   2 


342  THE    THEATRE.  [JUNE  i,  1886. 

quantity  of  work  and  the  varied  nature  of  it  since  accomplished  by  the 
young  manager  may  be  gathered  from  the    fact  that  in  seven  years 
Mr.  Harris  has  presented  seven  Shakespearean  plays  on  the  stage  of 
"old   Drury,"    including   "As    You    Like  It,"  "Othello,"  "  Julius 
Csesar,"  "Twelfth  Night,"  "The  Winter's  Tale,"  and   "Macbeth." 
He  has  brought  out  seven  important  new  plays  by  English  authors, 
in  six  of  which  he  has  collaborated,  and  in  several  of  which  he  has 
acted   the    leading   parts ;    and   he   has    also   produced  the    seven, 
best  pantomimes   that  have    been   seen   in    as    many  years  on  the 
London     stage.        In    1881,    the    late     John     McCullough     acted, 
under     his     management,    in    "Virginius"    and    "Othello,"     and, 
a  year  later,  Madame  Ristori  played  in  "Macbeth"    and  "Eliza- 
beth "    at    Drury    Lane.       In   1881  the    memorable  engagement  of 
the    Saxe-Meiningen    company    was   also    played   at   Drury   Lane, 
and  the  engagement  at  Easter  of  the  Carl  Rosa  company  has  come 
to   be    looked    upon  as  a  fixture   in  Drury  Lane   annals.       Youth, 
energy,  and  enterprise  have  combined  in  making  Mr.  Augustus  Harris 
the  most  successful  manager  of  the  "National  Theatre"  which  this 
century  has  produced.    This  brief  account  of  his  work  is  a  remarkable 
and  honourable  record. 


Seldom  has  St.  George's  Hall  been  more  crowded  than  on  the  even- 
ing of  April  27,  it  being  the  occasion  of  an  invitation  soiree  given  by 
The  Busy  Bees.     An  additional  interest  was  given  the  performance 
by  the  fact  that  Mr.  Lionel  Brough  had  consented  to  take  part  with 
the  amateurs,  and  appear  in  his  original  character  of  Joseph  Ironside,,, 
in  "  Nine  Points  of  the  Law  "  ;  and  never  has  the  talented  actor  played 
better.     Some  of  the  amateurs  would  do  well  to  bear  in  mind  the  sim- 
ple manner  and  freedom  from  exaggeration  shown  by  Mr.  Brough.  As 
Mrs.  Smylie,  Mrs.  Lennox  Browne  was  seen  to  great  advantage  ;  she 
brought  out  the  different  sides  of  the  character  into  relief,  ably  show- 
ing the  distinction  between  her  affected  feeling  in  her  first  scene  with 
Ironside,  and  her  sincerity  in  the  last  scene  of  the  play.     Mrs.  Smylie 
is  certainly  one  of  the  best  things  Mrs.  Lennox  Browne  has  ever  done, 
and  her  success  was  thoroughly  deserved.     Mr.  William  Harding  is, 
also  to  be  congratulated  on  her  village  schoolgirl :  schoolgirls  of  every 
description  are  always  excellent  in  William   Harding's  hands.     Miss 
Maud  Curwen  and  Mr.  J.   Rudge  Harding  were  satisfactory  as  the 
young  lovers  ;  but  Mr.  P.  K.  Houghton  was  not  good  as  the  Attorney.. 
The  part  of  Rollingstone  was  undertaken  by  Mr.  L.  Mowbray  Marras}i 
who  raced  through  it  with  much  "go,"  but  also  with  some  exaggeration  ;, 
and  if  freedom  of  gesture  deserves  commendation,  to  use  one's  arms 
like  a  wind-mill  in  a  gale  is  somewhat  carrying  things  to  an  extreme. 
Miss  Margaret  Brandon  next  recited  "  The  Spanish  Mother"  with, 
much  power  and  intensity,  but  her  delivery  was  rather  too  violent ; 
however,  as  an  apology  was  made  for  the  young  lady,  who  was  suffer- 
ing from  severe  neuralgia,  it  was  no  doubt  owing  to  this.     "  Creatures 


JUNE  i,  1886.]  OUR    OMXIBUS-BOX.  343 

of  Impulse"  concluded  the  programme.     Pipette  found  a  very  charm 
ing  representative  in  Mrs.  Bourne.     This  lady,  who  is  a  novice  on  Uie 
amateur  stage,  was  very  nervous  at  first ;  but  this  soon  wore  off,  and 
her  half  shy,  half  coquettish  ways  suited  th<  She  has, 

moreover,  a  pleasant  voice,  and  sings  with  taste  ;  though  it  sou 
rather  oddly  to  hear  a  song  from  "  Hermmie"— words  a 
music— in  Gilbert's  Fairy  Tale.      Mrs.  William  Harding,  as  Susette, 
surprised  her  audience  by  her  capital  dancing  of  a  pas  stul  and  a  dance 
with  Mr.  Morton  H.  Cotton,  who  appeared  as  Boomblehardt,  whose 
dancing  was   very  good   indeed;  both   were  encored     Miss    1 
Behnke  was  appropriately  quaint  as  the  strange  Old  Lady.     Mr. 
Herman   Klein  made   a  very   good  Peter,   not   being   in   the   least 
amateurish.     Mr.  S.  H.  Stafford  was  also  well  suited  as  the  Sergeant. 
The  Villagers  were  represented  by  the  other  members  of  the  Club 
and  the  piano  was  held  by  Misses  Margaret  Brandon  and  Metcalf  and 
Messrs.   Thomas   Cooke   and   Handel   Gear.     The   evening  was  a 
success. 


New   plays  produced,    and    important   revivals,  in   London,   the 
provinces,  and  Paris,  from  April  19  to  May  15,  1886:— 

(Revivals  are  marked  thus  *.) 

LONDON : 

April    24*"  Human   Nature,"    drama,     in  five  acts,  by  Henry  Pettitt  and 

Augustus  Harris.      Drury  Lane  Theatre.     (Originally   produced, 

September  12,  1885.) 
„       24    "  The  Pickpocket,"  farcical  comedy,  in  three  acts,   adapted   by 

George    P.    Hawtrey  from     the    German  of  Von  Moscr.      Globe 

Theatre. 
,,       24    "  Lurline,"  burlesque,  in  three  acts  and  six  scenes,  by   Robert 

Reece  and  H.  B.  Farnie.     Avenue  Theatre. 
„       26    "  Hard  Hearts,"  original  drama,  in  five  acts,  by  A.  J.  Charleson 

and  Charles  Wilmot.     Grand  Theatre. 
May      i    "  Clito,"  original  tragedy,  in    five  acts,  by  Sydney  Grundy  and 

Wilson  Barrett.     Princess's  Theatre. 
„       7      "  The  Cenci,"  tragedy,    in  five   acts,  by  Percy    Bysshe  Shelley. 

Grand  Theatre.     ("  Private  "  performance). 
,,     10      "  The  Lily  of  Ldoville,"  comic  opera,  in  three  acts,  the  book  by 

Felix   Remo  and  Alfred   Murray,   the  lyrics  by    Clement    Scott,. 

and    the    music    by    Ivan  Caryll.     Comedy  Theatre.     (Previously 

produced,  on  May  3,  at  the  Grand  Theatre,  Birmingham.) 
„     10      "  The  Commodore,"  opera-bouffe,  in  three  acts,  by  H.  B.  Farnie 

and  Robert  Reece,  music  by  Offenbach.    Avenue  Theatre.    (After- 
noon performance.) 
,     18      "Jewels    and    Dust;    or,    the  Romance    of  a  Court,"    new  and 

original  domestic   comedy,    in    four    acts,    by   George    Manville 

Fenn.     Crystal  Palace. 


344  THE    THEATRE.  JUNE  i,  1886. 

PROVINCES  : 
April  19     "  Love   or    Hate,"  drama,    in  three  [acts,  by  J.    Wild    and    F. 

Williams.     Prince  of  Wales's  Theatre,  Salford. 
,,     24   "God  Save  the   Queen,"    new  and    original    drama,  in  five  acts, 

by  R.  Palgrave  and  F.  Grover.     Prince's  Theatre,  Bristol. 
,,     30   "  Our  Lass,"  drama,  by  Wilfred    Stephens.      Prince    of   Wales's 

Theatre,  Salford. 
May     3  "The    Lily    of    Leoville."      (Produced    in  London    on    May    io> 

which  date  see). 
„       3     "  Built    on    Sand,"    drama,    in    five    acts,     by     Frank    Harvey 

Alexandra  Opera  House  Sheffield. 
,,       5     "Lovers/'    musical    play.      Theatre    Royal    and   Opera    House, 

Cork. 
„     10      "  April  Rain,"  comedy,  in  a  prologue  and  two  acts,    by  Leonard 

S.  Outram.     Theatre  Royal,  Reading. 
,,     ii      "Love    or    Honour,"    comedy-drama,    in    two    acts,    by    Henry 

Arncliffe.     Corn  Exchange,  Stamford. 

PARIS  : 
May     i     "II  e*tait  une  fois  .  .  .  .,"  operette,  in  three  acts,  words  by   MM. 

Jaime  and  Doze-Semiane  ;   music   by  O.  de  Lagoanere.     Menus- 

Plaisirs. 
,,      3*  "  Le  Grand  Mogul,"  opera-bouffe,  in  four  acts,  by  MM.  Chivot  and 

Duru  ;  music  by  Edmond  Audran.     Gaite*. 
,,       3*  "  Excelsior,"  ballet.     Eden. 
„       4     "Les   Mousquetaires   au   Couvent,"   comic   opera,   in  three   acts, 

words  by  MM.   Paul   Ferrier  and  Jules   Prevel ;    music  by  Louis 

Varney.     Folies-Dramatiques. 

,,       5     "  L'Heritage  de  Perdrivol,"  comedy,  in  three  acts,  by  MM.  William 
\j  Busnach  and  Duru.     Dejazet. 

,,       6     "  Maitre  Ambros,"  a  lyric  drama,  in  four  acts  and  five  tableaux,  by 

MM.  Frangois  Coppee  and  Dorchain  ;    music  by  Charles  Widor. 

Opera-Comique. 

,,       7*  "  Le  Misanthrope,"  comedy,  by  Moliere.     Comedie  Frangaise. 
„       7*  "  La  Coupe  Enchantee,"  comedy,    in  one  act,  in  prose,  by  MM. 

J.  de  la  Fontaine  and  Champmesle.     Comedie  Francaise. 
,,       8*  "  Chemins  de  Fer,"  comedy-vau,deville,  in  five  acts,  by  MM.  Labiche, 

Delacour  and  Adolphe  Choler.     Cluny. 
,       8     "  La   Legende   de   Sainte-Elizabeth,"  oratorio,  by   Otto  Roquette, 

translated  by  Gustave  Lagye  ;    music  by  Franz  Liszt.     Trocadero. 
,,     ii     "La  Veuve  de  Damocles,"  comedy,  in  three  acts,  by  MM.  Victor 

Bernard  and  Paul  Bilhaut.     Vaudeville. 

„     ii     "  A116  !  A116  !  "  comedy,  in  one  act,  M.  Pierre  Valdagne.      Vaude- 
ville. 
,,     15*  "Le  Medecin  malgre'  lui,"  comic  opera,  in  three  acts,  taken  from 

Moliere's  comedy  ;  music  by  Charles  Gounod.     Opera  Comique. 
,,     15*  "Le  Naufrage   de    la  Me'duse,"    drama,  in  five   acts   and   nine 

tableaux,    by    MM.    Charles    Desnoyer    and  Adolphe    d'Ennery 

Ambigu. 
,,     16*  "La  Vie   de  Boheme,"  comedy,  in  four  acts,  by  Henri  Murger. 

Odeon. 
„     17*  "Henry  VIII.,"  opera,  in  four  acts  and  five  tableaux,  libretto  by 

MM.   Detroyat  and  A.  Silvestre  ;   music  by  Saint-Saens.      Grand 

Opera. 


PLEASE  DO  NOT  REMOVE 
CARDS  OR  SLIPS  FROM  THIS  POCKET 

UNIVERSITY  OF  TORONTO  LIBRARY